Nocturne Grim
by Fyrie
Summary: Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel the Series Crossover - Snape is given another chance to seek absolution for past crimes in the form of a girl, fallen into darkness and in need of aid. Chapter 6 ADDED - August 4th
1. Chapter One

Nocturne Grim

Chapter One

Notes: Don't ask where this idea came from. I couldn't even begin to guess. I s'pose I just have an odd mind. Maybe word association. Picture association. I wish I knew where it came from. Gah. I wish I could switch off my mind sometimes. Like I don't have enough series to work on.

________________________

Voldemort was long gone.

It was almost two years since the most notorious Dark Wizard in the world had been defeated in an epic battle that had wiped out huge swathes of the wizarding world on both the light and the dark side.

Six months prior to that triumph, there had been the greatest loss the wizarding world had known, on the day that the equally famed Albus Dumbledore, Head Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and titled with more honourifics than anyone could even try to remember, had been cut down by the same Dark Lord.

The wizarding world had been shaken to it's core when the news had spread.

It was almost like the effect of an immense boulder being dropped into a tranquil pool, the initial ripples being overlaid again and again by counter-ripples from the outward explosion.

However, looking back at it two years further on, it was the death of Dumbledore which had brought together all the forces of good, leading to the furious battle between those on the side of the Dark Wizard Voldemort and those fighting in the name of Dumbledore.

Many had died.

Far too many.

And those who survived the war, who knew what it had been like before, knew that things would never be the same.

Deep in the dark underbelly of the school that had once been lead by Dumbledore, a single figure - a survivor - sat in the room that had been his for almost twenty-five years, gazing into an ash-strewn grate absently.

It was dark, only illuminated by the last traces of daylight slipping through the narrow windows that lined the top of the walls, casting odd shadows down on the man seated in the massive, stained chair, his hands resting on the elaborately carved arms.

How he had survived the battle, he had no idea.

All he knew was that he had served his penance by risking his life - day in, day out for the three years leading up to Voldemort's defeat - and while it would never, ever be enough, he had done all that he could and the one that he had stood against had finally fallen.

However, the letter that was crumpled in his tightly-clenched right hand had given him a new focus, a focus that was not entirely based on the school where he still worked, lived and had fought so hard to protect the innocents.

Unfortunately, it was a focus that he was not entirely sure he could deal with.

Not now, at least, with the final end-of-year exams coming up for the significantly reduced number of pupils of Hogwarts.

Which made it all the more bothersome.

It _had_ to be now.

The letter had emphasised that without being blatantly obvious.

There were to be no delays, or it might be too late.

Of course, what they were telling him to do and what he actually intended to do were two very different things, but he knew that his method would be more effective than anything their system could provide.

He had read and re-read the letter a dozen times, although he still did not know quite how they had found him or how to contact him, considering where he was. He had absorbed the contents, as the fire in his grate had burned to nothing. He had tried to find some excuse, but there was nothing else he could do.

This time, he was the only one who could possibly deal with...her.

Of course, she would have no idea who he was, but that didn't matter. What did matter was that he was being sent to her to aid her in a way that only he could, or at least that was the explanation he would give her.

Not even the group of people who had been responsible for contacting him knew just how well he understood the young woman's situation and how he could help draw her out of the shadows. 

Slowly tilting his head, until his head rested against the high, solid wood back of his chair, Severus Snape allowed a breath to escape in a puff of white condensation, his eyes closed wearily.

Head Mistress McGonagall was liable to be mildly put out with him departing from the school in the lead in to the exam period, but he knew that he couldn't refuse the request in the letter.

Perhaps, he mused, it would serve as a final act of penance.

Doubtful, considering that he could never fully repay Albus Dumbledore for his trust and protection, but it was another stepping stone across the river.

Drawing a slow, calming breath, Snape pushed himself to his feet, his long, dark robes rustling around him, strangely loud in the silence of the room. The sooner he left, the sooner he knew he would get back.

He smoothed out the letter, which had been delivered via a muggle mail service through Hogsmeade, looking down at the print on the thin, flimsy paper, no doubt from one of those blasted computers.

McGonagall would want to see it, no doubt.

Another sigh escaped him.

Best to get it over with as soon as possible.

***

"Muggles..." Shaking his head, the Potions professor from Hogwarts closed the door of his hotel room behind him, letting it click shut. It wasn't that he disliked the non-magic humans, but sometimes, they were so...simplistic it astounded him.

Yes, they had some fantastic creations like electricity and automobiles, but ask them to find a reservation in a hotel registry and they could become the stupidest creatures in the world.

It had taken half an hour since he had arrived at the hotel, uncomfortably attired in muggle clothing, for them to rearrange the rooms and give him the keycard for the twin room that he had booked, as opposed to the double-bedded room.

Looking around the room, his lip curled. 

Surely they didn't expect people to pay to stay in such squalor?

When he had asked for a twin room, he has at least expected that it would mean that any two people could move around freely in it without being in constant contact with one another.

Two single beds stood less than a foot apart, their heads against the right hand wall of the room. A television was propped on a stand near the ceiling on the wall to the left, above the shoddy-looking chest of drawers.

On the plus side, there was an en suite bathroom, but - like the rest of the room - nothing really seemed to match, the pale green of the bathroom clashing horribly with the aubergine, beige and lilac of the bedroom area.

Well, he mused, it was still a room for the time being and he didn't even know if she would agree to accompany him. If that was the case, he could always find somewhere with larger rooms.

Depositing his single bag on the closest bed, he immediately shrugged out of the formal coat he was wearing, wishing that he could wear something more comfortable like his familiar robes, instead of a muggle suit.

Unfortunately, he had to look professional, 'normal' and sane for his meeting with the young woman he had travelled from Britain to see.

Crossing to the window, he opened the yellowing lace drapes carefully, looking out on the streets of Los Angeles, wishing for the thousandth time since he had apparated into the country that he didn't have to be there.

He couldn't back out now, though.

He was expected.

In less than three hours time, he would be coming face-to-face with the one person who might be the next stage in his quest for salvation. Either that, or she would prove to be his eternal damnation.

Either way, it was going to be very interesting.

***

He felt stupid.

He had a feeling he looked stupid.

Wearing a muggle suit was one thing, but his hair...his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, then he had immediately let down again. He couldn't decide which style made him look less like some kind of sleazy pimp.

Giving up, he ran his fingers through it, pushing it back from his face and letting it hang loosely around his cheeks. Not exactly respectable, but on the plus side, he was clean-shaven and he was wearing a suit, although he had been forced to give up on the tie he had with him.

He made a mental note to give Oliver Wood, the flying teacher who had replaced the late Madam Hooch, one of his remedies, preferably one of his especially painful, slow acting poisons, for providing a tie with sound effects.

And not just any picture or sound effects.

A bloody cartoon lion that roared.

Casting a silencing spell on it hadn't helped, so he had left it behind. 

It transpired to be a good thing too, the heat of the city rising to baking. 

Since he all but lived in the dungeons at Hogwarts, the sun burning down from cloudless sky and reflecting straight up off the pavement beneath his feet had been enough to have sweat pouring from him in buckets.

By the time he reached his destination, the black jacket was slung over his arm, the white shirt drenched with sweat and the high collar undone. Once more, he wished passionately that he was back in his dungeon working on complex potions.

Entering the massive, formidable grey building that resembled a series of large, plastic boxes from the outside, he was immediately greeted by a rush of cool air and sighed, as he approached the desk just inside the front door.

A skinny, unsmiling woman with a shrivelled face that resembled a tortoise and an enormous mop of fake blonde hair, wearing a cream blouse and mauve skirt stared up at him, as if she had never seen someone who was unused to the California heat before.

"Mr...uh...Snape?"

"Yes?" he snapped irritably, pushing his tangled hair back from his face.

"Do you have some kind of I.D.?"

Producing a fake British passport - he didn't exactly need a real one, considering he could apparate anywhere without one - he gave the woman at the desk an unwavering stare, until the passport was returned to him.

"If you wouldn't mind taking a seat..."

Scowling, he looked over towards the plastic seats, dotted with chewing gum, that lined the walls a little further down the hallway, where a few people sat listlessly, waiting their chance to be taken in.

"Very well," he said, giving the woman a venomous look. "But I am here from overseas. I don't have a great deal of time."

***

"Bitch," he muttered politely in the direction of the woman at the front desk, who was filing her nails and watching the television in her small 'office' at the same time. This was said as he was finally called up, after waiting for two hours.

Even people who had arrived an hour after him had not been kept waiting as long as he had.

"Sorry, buddy," one of the guards said, as he was quickly frisked, then lead into the long corridor lined with booths, where prisoners were allowed to meet with their visitors. "We woulda got you in here earlier, but we had some trouble with your girl and one of the other girls. Another fight."

"Somehow, that does not surprise me at all," Snape replied quietly.

Following the bulky guard along, Snape's eyes scanned along the glass panels, taking in the various faces. Some were bitter, some were hard, some were young, but all of them were exhausted. Window after window passed and they reached the final cubicle in the hall, the Potions professor stopped short as soon as he looked through the pane.

Even though he had never seen her, met her or been sent any photographs of the one he had come to see, he knew her instantly the moment he saw her face through the glass, which separated their sides of the hall.

It could only be her.

She was slouched in the chair, looking both frustrated and worn out. Long, dark hair hung around a pale face, which was marked here and there with fading bruises, her dark brown eyes staring absently at a spot on the desk in front of her, speaking of a spirit that was almost broken.

The ones who had contacted him had been right when they said he was needed and had he come even a few days later, he doubted there would be anything salvageable in the young woman before him.

Compared to the all of the other women prisoners he had seen as he had passed, she was wearing the same, standard clothing: a plain, loose, pale blue shirt, over a dark vest and a pair of fairly loose trousers.

Approaching the desk, he hung his jacket over the back of the chair and slowly sat down, gazing at the young woman as she straightened up in the seat and turned to look at him.

Her dark eyes narrowed, her forehead wrinkling slightly in a way that brought her brows together, a little suspicious, her expression cautious, as she picked up the telephone that connected both sides of the glass.

On his side of the window, Severus Snape did the same, bringing the phone to his ear and speaking.

"Good afternoon, Faith."


	2. Chapter Two

Nocturne Grim

Chapter Two

Notes: Hmm - has anyone worked out who our illustrious Severus has been brought in to help? If you haven't, then this chapter should clear that up for you. I apologise for her voice - I haven't written her in a while, so sorry in advance if she seems a bit off. 

And please suspend your reality-belief thing for a little while re. what I'm up to, because I know this would be a very...doubtful situation at the best of times, but hey! I do think that working with wizards and demons gives me some kind of reason for the whole uber-surreal thing.

Oh, and someone please shoot my muse for me. It won't stop working! I want a break!

______________________

"Good afternoon, Faith."

Who was this guy?

Sitting on the opposite side of the thick panel of glass, Faith studied the man sitting opposite her through the pane. She had never seen him before. At least, she couldn't remember ever seeing him before.

Not that she minded having a visitor.

In the two weeks since she had turned herself in to the police department in Los Angeles, the only person who had visited her had been Angel and, even then, he had only been able to stay for short periods.

Whoever he was, he was studying her with the same feigned disinterest she was showing in him, although he did have the slight advantage of knowing her name. His hooded eyes were dark, almost black and strangely emotionless, as he watched her examine him, shadowed by thick brows, over a hooked nose.

His skin seemed very pale, as if he didn't see much of the sun, and if she hadn't been so sure he was human - she could see the faint pulse in his throat - she would have sworn he was a vampire. He had the look of one.

Black hair hung around his face to his shoulders, tangled with strands clinging to his cheeks. The collar of his white shirt was open, making her think that maybe he wasn't used to the heat outside.

But it was still those dark, empty eyes that kept pulling back her attention.

Deep, obsidian pools that seemed bottomless.

Wicked freaky.

Her eyes still narrowed dubiously, she pushed her hair back from her face with one hand. _Keep it cool_, she told herself. _Just because he's got freaky-ass eyes, don't go nuts_. "So, who are you?"

"I suppose you might call me a friend," he replied levelly, his dark eyes still on her face. His voice was smooth and calm with an accent that she recognised, which made her sit up a little straighter in her seat.

After all, how many English guys had she met?

And how many of them had tried to kill her lately?

"You from the Watcher's council?" she demanded guardedly, her feet braced on the floor, ready to push her chair back and depart if he admitted it.

She had been on the run from the assassins from the Watcher's Council, the body that officiated over the lives of the Vampire Slayers and their guides, the Watchers, when she had arrived in Los Angeles from Sunnydale, the Slayer centre of operation on the Western Seaboard. 

A Vampire Slayer by destiny, a simple misjudgement on her part a year before had resulted in the death of a human and had lead her in a rapid downwards spiral that had resulted in her joining with the darkest force present in Sunnydale at that time: A man-cum-demon by the name of Richard Wilkens III, the Mayor of the town.

He had embraced her, cared for her and treated her with an affection no one - not even her mother - had provided and, in return, she had done what he asked, went where he said and learned to touch the darkness. 

It had grown addictive, the care he gave her but also the darkness he had steeped her in. It had grown over several painfully short months, culminating in a face-off with Buffy Summers, the other Slayer, and left Faith in a coma for almost a year.

She had awoken to find that the man who had all but adopted her was dead, that her allies were gone and that the warmth of affection that had reassuringly masked the darkness that she had touched had been ripped away.

It was then, when she had faced the other Slayer once more as an enemy, that she realised how far she had fallen, how deep into the dark she had actually plunged. So she had run as far and as fast as she could, hoping that she might yet be able to find the one to end it for her.

She had turned to Angel, a souled vampire and the former lover of Buffy Summers, using his friends and allies against him. It had all been with the aim of forcing him into a confrontation, hoping he would be the one to kill her, to end it all.

Instead, much to her confusion and surprise he had extended the hand of friendship to her, giving her a lifeline to cling to, some kind of hope for redemption.

However, from the moment that she had awoken from the coma, she had been considered a dangerous liability to the Council, which had left her as nothing more than a target. 

Valued less than a stray dog on the streets.

It went without saying that she didn't really like the Watchers Council, so if this guy was one of them...

"No."

"Oh," She felt the tightness in her muscles relax and casually leaned back in her seat. "If you're not one of them, who are you? And don't give me that 'friend' bullshit. I want a straight answer."

The man's lips lifted a little at one side. "I suspected you might," he said, pulling his seat closer and resting his left arm on the desk, his right hand holding the phone. "My name is Severus Snape. I was told I might be able to help you."

Faith laughed mirthlessly. "Bit late for that, Sev," she replied, leaning forward on the table on her side of the glass panel. Might as well humour the guy. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm already banged up in this place for the next twenty years at least, so unless you got some way to bust me out and a good reason for me to leave..."

A dark brow rose. "You would rather stay here than have your freedom?"

"Look, buddy, I don't know who you are, where you came from or what you want from me, but I've done stuff that I kinda want to make up for," She looked around the grim walls. "That's why I'm in here in the first place." 

"It's killing you."

"Huh?"

Severus, if that was his real - and wicked cool - name, was studying her. "This place is killing you, Faith," he said quietly. "I recognise the signs. How are you meant to make amends when you are ready to give up?"

Faith felt like she had been hit by a two-by-four.

How did he know?

How the hell did he know?

The hand holding the telephone to her ear dropped and she stared at him, a thrill of nervous unease shooting down her spine. Who was this guy? How could he tell what she was feeling? Why had he come to see her?

He simply gazed back through the glass at her without any of the emotion she was used to seeing in the eyes of men who had looked at her as closely as he had. She had seen fear, lust, anger, worry, but never had she seen emptiness like that in the strange, dark man's eyes.

How long she sat there just staring at him, she couldn't say.

It could have been seconds or an eternity until she picked up the receiver again and held it to her ear.

"Who are you?" her voice shook as she said it.

"Someone who has been in the same place as you are now. A person who strayed off the path and lost their way," he answered, his eyes never leaving her face, despite being half-closed. "I can help you."

Faith was surprised to realise that the hand holding the telephone was shaking. "I don't get it," she said, looking down at the desk, then back up at the man's passive, pale face. One of his brows rose in silent question. "Why?"

"I have reasons," his answer was soft.

The Vampire Slayer studied him, then chuckled. "Same reason as I'm in here, huh?"

"Partially," he agreed, without further elaboration.

"Okay, I get you being all about the making up for crimes and all, but why the hell would you want me out?" He said nothing, studying her again, as if considering his options. "Oh, I get it. I'm your special project, huh? Where are you from? Different branch of Wolfram and Hart?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"C'mon," she challenged, leaning close to the glass, her free hand spreading on the pane. "You're not from the watcher's council and you come in with all this shit about wanting to help me out. You're here for Wolfram and Hart, right? You want a Slayer onside and they decided to send someone older and smarter since Lindsey screwed up the negotiations."

His expression revealed nothing, although there was a slight tensing in the muscles in his right cheek. "I hate to shatter your illusions, Faith, but I am not from Wolfram and Hart. I was not sent to retrieve you for their benefit."

"Sure," she snorted. "Okay, Mister Mysterious, you're English, you say you're not Watcher's Council or Wolfram and Hart, you're wicked creepy. Any plans on telling me how the hell you found out about me?"

"I was contacted by an outside source who thought I might be interested in aiding someone who is in the same position that I was in when I was your age," the man said calmly, rising to his feet. "If you aren't interested..."

She was on her feet too, torn between letting him leave and asking him to stay. A worried frown marked her features. "Hold up a second," she finally said. "How'd'you manage to get into the same mess I'm in?"

"Unfortunate choices," He remained standing, looking down at her. "I would regale you with the tale, but it culminates in death, dishonour and shame, the likes of which I doubt you would wish to hear about."

"Got that right," Faith muttered, shuddering. 

She was still haunted by nightmares of the people that she had killed over a year before, when she had worked for Richard Wilkens, the Mayor-cum-wannabe-demon-overlord of Sunnydale. While he had seldom sent her to specifically kill people, he had certainly not discouraged the practise.

"I was fortunate enough to avoid being enclosed as you are," Brown eyes met black and the slayer was surprise to see a flicker of...something there. She wasn't sure, but it almost could have been mistaken for sympathy. "This...system is pointless and out-dated. It only serves to break those who truly wish to make amends, while those who are unapologetic grow more resentful, which is why I have come here personally."

"To tell the board that their prisons suck ass?" she raised a brow.

His lips rose in the slight, half-smirk again. "While it is tempting, I was thinking more on having you liberated, in a fashion, so you might be able to make amends in a way that would not kill you, as this place no doubt will."

Faith wasn't sure what to think.

Yeah, he was a complete stranger and he had wicked creepy eyes, but something told her that he wasn't lying. Something about him did seem to strike a familiar chord and she found herself wondering...

What if he could help her?

Would he be able to get her out of the Hellhole where, every single day, some tough bitch with an attitude tried to challenge her and she ended up having to fight, but trying with all her skill to hold back, to end the fight peacefully?

She had already hospitalised three women and that was acting in sheer self-defence and had become more than familiar with solitary confinement, where she was left to contemplate her actions.

Despite the fact that they were meant to be unarmed, some of her assailants had somehow got weapons, although they seldom had the skill to harm her. Only once had a knife made contact, leaving her with a raw wound to her torso, which healed in a matter of hours. 

No doubt, Wolfram and Hart or perhaps the Watchers Council had a hand in that.

"Okay," she said, motioning for him to sit back down. "You got my attention. You say you can help me? Gonna tell me anything about you, so I got some kind of basis for even thinking about trusting you?"

Severus looked at the clock on the bare wall behind him, then back at her. "I will detail as much as I can at present," he replied. "Should it be insufficient evidence for you by the time I have to leave, I will return tomorrow and continue."

***

Lying on her back on her bunk, her hands folded over her stomach, Faith stared up at the grimy ceiling, her brow wrinkled in thought. On the bunk beneath her, one of the other girls snorted in her sleep, tossing and turning.

It had been a wicked weird afternoon.

All because of the guy who had come to visit her.

A wizard. 

He had told her - with a straight face and no sign that he was joking in his expression - that he was a straight up, A-class, magic-wand-using, cauldron-simmering, broomstick-flying wizard. 

She had laughed, but he hadn't.

She had thought he was a whacko.

Those black eyes had stared at her and he had started to speak. His voice hadn't risen above a mesmerising murmur, his tone a pitch oddly hypnotic. He had caught her attention and held it, something few people had ever done.

Without breaking so much as a smile, he had told her of 'his world', of magic and muggles, the wizard's word for non-magical people. He had told her about his work, briefly informing her of what he had done to earn himself a literal black mark, because of which he wanted to redeem himself.

Something about a Dark Lord snake guy. 

He hadn't been big on the details, telling her that it was a subject that she should not hear about in her current frame of mind, which implied that whatever had happened in his world had been bad. Very bad.

Skimming through nearly thirty years of the history of his world, he had told her a list of names, of people she felt she should have known: the bad guy, Voldemort; his followers, the Death Eaters; a powerful good wizard called Dumbledore; a scarred orphan kid who was fated to fight the Dark because of his name, Harry Potter.

It was that kid who had caught her attention and she asked about him.

The Boy-Who-Lived.

Despite an initial reluctance, Severus had told her how the boy had been saved by chance and yet, bore a scar, which made him legendary and cursed him as much as it gained him uncalled for fame. 

He was expected, because of that fluke, once-in-an-eternity chance, to be able to defeat the Dark Lord, who had inflicted the scar on him, to be able to face him and triumph without so much as another scar.

It was because of that scar and the connections it had brought that Harry Potter had been one of the first to fall in the final battle, Snape had said, a strange expression of sorrow crossing his face.

The kid must have been something to make that much of an impact.

Faith closed her dark eyes briefly. Potter reminded her of both herself and Buffy. Both cursed with a task, but - unlike Buffy - she and Harry hadn't been able to fulfil what was expected of them.

They had both done all that they could and stumbled.

Harry Potter had fallen.

Faith, though...

She smiled wearily. 

She had stumbled, yes. Angel had been the first one to catch her, to break her fall and now, the wicked creepy Snape guy was willing to reach down into the Hell she inhabited and help her towards the light again.

It was going to be a few hours before she found out exactly why, how and where he intended to have her serving her penance, when he arrived for visiting time again, but for now, she was comfortable just considering what she had been told.

Somehow, the magic thing didn't surprise her.

Her musings were disrupted when she heard the quiet squeal of the cell door opening a little. Faith jerked bolt upright, only to be greeted by a massive fist that sent her slamming back against the wall.

The three other girls in the cell all jumped, waking with the sound of Faith's impact with the floor, as she plunged off the bunk. One of them leaned out from the bunk, muttering curses, only to be hauled out of the bunk and cast towards the door.

"Out!" a deep snarl of a voice ordered savagely, her groggy cellmates scrambling off their bunks and, after taking a look at whatever had thrown her onto the floor, fleeing without argument.

Pushing herself up, using the wall as leverage, Faith raised a hand to her face with a wince. She could taste blood and her cheek was burning just along her cheekbone. If she was to take bets, she would have said that the blow had burst her cheek open.

Listening warily, she ducked when she heard a rush of air, avoiding another blow from the immense fist of her assailant, ducking and swinging herself found, to kick upwards into the...thing's gut, sending it tottering back towards the open door.

Taking up a defence stance, she groaned. 

Not again.

If the fighting cellmates weren't bad enough...

Her attacker straightened up, looming over her. It had to be some kind of big-ass demon, with moonlight washed grey skin that looked like gravel, big teeth, spines like a porcupine's ass all over it's head and gleaming red eyes.

"Slayer."

"Gimme a fuckin' break..." she muttered, shaking her head.

"I will paint the walls with your blood, Slayer!"

With two quick sidelong glances around the room, Faith knew the only defence she had were the sheets from the beds and the beds themselves. "That's great," she shifted on her feet as the demon moved towards her. "Bit arty for me, but hey! Whatever bakes your cookies!"

"Die!"

Dodging the flurry of blows from immense, clawed fists, she managed to get a decent kick and punch in on the thing's face. "Original," she grunted, swinging her legs hard against the demon's with enough force to knock it off it's feet.

Damn, it was fast!

Before she could take advantage of it falling, it was on it's feet again and lunging towards her. Once more, she found herself slammed against the wall, her shoulder cracking painfully out of position.

Yanking the dislocated joint back into place after using her limp arm as a weapon to smash the demon across the head, she blocked a kick and followed through with a punch, which made the demon falter, but move forward again.

She needed to get back into training, she knew. 

Desperately.

Had it been a year before, she knew she could have taken this guy, six of his equally big and bad friends and still had time for a quick screw against the back wall of the Bronze, but now...

She was out of touch and condition.

In body and in soul.

She didn't want to be fighting it. 

She didn't want to be fighting anything.

Fighting humans in self-defence was one thing, but a demon...

Talon-like claws caught her across her gut, making her gasp in surprise and pain, the heel of her right hand driving up beneath the thing's chin with enough force to snap the head back.

But not enough to kill.

"Shit!" she moaned, backing away, searching for a weapon.

One sweaty hand grabbed the curved head of one of the bunks, the tightly-riveted metal squealing as she pulled on it with one hand, her other blocking the blows from her attacker.

"C'mon, c'mon..." she muttered wildly, jerking against the metal.

It gave, coming away in her hand and she swung the bar up, under the demon's jaw but it's hand locked around her wrist and reversed the blow of the piping, smashing it against her face and knocking her reeling.

Blood ticklishly oozed down from her split forehead and she blinked furiously, trying to clear her vision.

A massive, leathery hand grabbed her around the throat and she gasped as she was lifted off her feet and smacked back against the wall with enough force to jar all the air from her lungs.

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!"

Faith's vision was blurring when she heard the male voice bellow the word and the next thing she knew, the demon pinning her against the wall by her throat seemed to have been blasted backwards, away from her.

Sliding down the wall heavily, she tried to force down waves of dizziness, blackness edging in on her line of sight. Her head was throbbing wildly from the blows to forehead and jaw that she had received and her throat burned with every breath she took, but she didn't care about that.

She wanted to know who had stopped the demon.

"_Petrificus totallus_," the same voice said and she saw her attacker, which had been in the process of scrambling to it's feet again, going rigid and falling flat on it's face just in front of a shadowed figure in the doorway.

Blinking blood out of her eyes, she squinted at him. "Who...?"

"_Lumos_," the man said quickly, a glow emanating from a stick in his hand, casting a pale, cream-green wash of light across the face she remembered from visiting hour that afternoon. Crossing the room, he knelt by her side, lifting her face with his free hand. "Bloody hell..."

"Sev...? How did...what...what the hell are you doing in here?"

"My name," he said softly, as he seemed to make a cold compress appear by magic and pressed it to her bloody forehead. "Is Severus, not Sev. And I came here with the express purpose of making sure you were all right."

Wincing, her vision blurring in and out of focus, she studied him as he cleaned the blood from her forehead. "How'd'you get in anyway?"

"Apparation with an invisibility cloak," he replied. "And you're leaving with me."

"Hey!" she started to protest.

Black eyes met hers determinedly. "Faith, I arrive to see you on the verge of being killed by a demon of some variety. I am not about to leave you in a prison, where the wrong people can pay to have you murdered in your own cell, simply because you rejected them."

"You don't know that..."

"That it was sent to kill you? I saw the guard letting it in."

Faith closed her eyes, the back of her head resting against the wall. "Shit..."

"I am assuming that means you know who may have sent it."

"Wolfram and Hart or the Council," she muttered. "Both of them want me dead."

Snape's dark eyes glittered. "You are not staying here," he said firmly. "I don't care if it's the correct legal procedure or not. To Hell with waiting. You are leaving this place with me. Now."

The Slayer sighed. She couldn't find the strength to argue and if she had to face another demon, another mad cell mate, another envoy sent by her enemies, she knew she wouldn't fight anymore.

If he wanted to get her out, so be it.

Even if he killed her as soon as they were out, anything had to be better than this.

However, that did pose a problem...

"One problem," Faith said, her eyes still closed as she leaned back against the wall, Snape still carefully sponging blood from her face. "We're in here. Kinda locked up and not exactly good for walking right out."

"I didn't come completely unprepared, Faith," he said quietly. "If you are willing to trust me to get you out of here..."

"Actually, I think I might stay here for another coupla days, y'know," she said dryly, opening her eyes and giving him a pained smirk. "Gotta love a daily ass kicking...not too good for the complexion but ow!"

Snape's lips twitched. "Oops. Did that sting a little?"

"Prick," she muttered, trying to glare at him. "So, spill. How'd'you plan on hauling my beaten ass outta here?" One of his hands plunged into his robes and he withdrew a small, rectangular piece of card. "Oh! Right! A 'Get out of jail free' card."

He actually gave her a suggestion of a smile. "Actually," he said, as he turned the card over, revealing exactly what she had said. Faith stared at it, then released a loud peal of laughter. "I did hope you would appreciate the irony."

"So whaddya do with it? Give it to the guards and then we walk out?"

"Nothing quite so exciting as that, Faith," he replied with a chuckle, holding the card out towards her. "Take a good grip of the corner and don't let go. It may be a bit of an odd sensation."

"Huh?"

"If you want out of here, take the card and hold tight," he said again.

Looking at the card, then him, she nodded, extending a hand and grasping the corner of the flimsy piece of card.

Instantly, it felt like a hook had plunged into her stomach and she was being jerked forward. She tried to pull her hand away from the card, but it was too late and the cell dissolved around her in a whirl of grey and moonlight. 


	3. Chapter Three

Nocturne Grim

Chapter Three

Notes: I have a horrible feeling this is going to be another mini-epic. I should stop doing these kind of stories while I still have my sanity.

___________________

"What the fuck was that?" Snape looked down at the disorientated young woman, who was sprawled at his feet on the floor of his motel room, her hair all over her face, which had drained of colour.

She looked terrified, shaken and furious, squinting around the dimly-lit room.

He had left the bedside lamps on, lest anyone wondered if he was in. He was grateful he had had the foresight, so he and the girl had not been plunged into a pitch-black room, which would have done little to support the theory that he was honestly trying to help.

Offering her a hand to help her up, he was unsurprised when she struggled onto her feet herself, staring at him guardedly. "That was a portkey," he replied, lowering his hand. "We use them as transportation devices if we wish to travel in groups."

"So all that stuff you were telling me about magic and shit was true? Everything?"

"Of course."

She took the news rather well, considering, swaying a little.

"Shit on a stick..."

The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. She was nothing if not eloquent. "I would suggest that you sit down somewhere and regain your balance, before your legs decide to do that favour for you," he said.

"Yeah...good idea..." Her eyes flicked around the room and he recognised the wary suspicion in her pale face, her hair hanging in lank curtains around her features. 

It was the expression of one who felt that they were trapped in a dangerous position. 

"A temporary room," he said as an explanation, before she could even manage to voice her question. "I wanted to be sure you knew of the enormity of the task ahead of you, before you decide if you wish to join me or not."

"Why here?"

"Why not?"

She seemed to accept that, sitting down on the bed nearest her, not that there was much between them. A hiss of pain escaped her, her hands rising to press against her belly, one of them coming away crimson. "Dammit..."

Snape felt his throat constrict. If he hadn't been there... 

"You're hurt..." 

"No shit, Sherlock."

Making his way quickly through to the bathroom, he opened the wooden box that contained his various small bottles of potions. Selecting three of them, he returned to the bedroom, where Faith was still sitting on the bed.

"Let me see," he said crisply, kneeling down by the bed. Faith gave him a look that suggested she wasn't about to be helpful in any way. "Faith, I have healing solutions, but if you wish to be stubborn, I would quite happily put a binding spell on you, to prevent you moving."

"Like you did with that demon-thing in my cell?"

"Correct," he replied, mentally sighing with relief as she winced and withdrew her hands from her stomach, drawing up the ragged, torn material of the shirt to reveal four parallel stripes slashed across the flat spread of skin.

The sight of the open injuries made him wince. How could she have even stood up with ragged tears like that on her torso? Any normal person would have fainted from the pain alone...

But then, she was hardly a normal person.

And she was staring at him expectantly.

If she was willing to let him treat her, that was certainly a start.

Summoning a cloth from the bathroom, he splashed some of his cleansing solution onto it and gently but firmly swept away the blood and oily residue from the wounds, which were already beginning to close.

Glancing up at Faith through his dark lashes, he could that see she had her teeth clenched together, her nostrils flaring, but she wasn't making a sound, even though it was obvious she was in pain.

Strong in spirit.

It was a rare thing.

"You heal fast," he murmured.

"Yeah," she replied tightly. "One of the added bonuses of being the Slayer."

With a gentler touch, Severus used his fingertips to smear a thicker, creamy yellow lotion onto the four wounds, wiping his hands on the cloth as soon as each wound was liberally covered.

His eyes rose to the girl's. She still had a tight expression locked on her face, her eyes focused on her fist, which was resting on her knee.

Rising from his knees, he returned to the bathroom, packing away the bottles in the box. Pausing, he looked up at the mirror over the stained white sink, staring briefly at his reflection.

Was he really ready for this?

After all, he could hardly save himself. Would he be able to save this girl?

Rubbing his forehead with his fingertips, he exhaled a long breath. 

It was too late to change his mind now, he knew. He had broken the girl out of the prison, in the very moment she was meant to be assassinated, and it was more than likely that they would believe her to be dead.

That, in itself, was a blessing.

It saved the trouble of the formal paper work and details.

Straightening his back, he walked back through to the bedroom area, to find Faith sitting exactly as he had left her, staring at her right hand, which was curled in a fist on her right thigh.

"Faith?" Her head jerked up. "Do you wish to talk now, or would you prefer to get some sleep? We can talk in the morning."

Her eyes drifted to the mattress of the bed she was sitting on, then she looked back at him cautiously. I don't have anything for sleeping in," she replied, as if worried about saying something wrong.

Severus was hard-pressed to conceal a smile. How very like him, she was. 

When he had first gone to Dumbledore, begging to come back to the light side, he had acted the same way. He hadn't wanted to do anything wrong, in case his chance slipped through his fingers.

With a gesture of his wand, a pair of simple beige pyjamas appeared on the bed beside her and she raised her eyebrows.

"Will they suffice?"

"You can just magic everything like that?"

Severus nodded, amused by the wonder in her voice. To think he had liberated her from a sentence for homicide and here she was, eyes wide and captivated as a muggle child by the very idea of magic. 

"We can do most everything by magic, Faith," he answered with a smile.

"Wicked cool," she whispered, touching the fabric of the nightwear, as if to check that it was actually real and not just some elaborate kind of illusion. "These are really for me to use?" 

"I wouldn't say they are my colour, would you?"

Faith laughed loudly, then seemed to freeze, as if she had committed a serious faux pas, staring up at him as if she expected him to do something hurtful to her.

So terrified of doing something wrong, so desperate to please...

"You don't need to be afraid of laughing anymore, Faith," Severus said gently, approaching the two beds and sitting down opposite her. "And you certainly have no need to fear me."

She was staring at him again, warily. 

It was obvious that she was trying to understand just what he was, why he was acting the way he was, how his mind worked. 

And, he supposed, it was justified, considering how he looked.

He had changed back into his familiar comfortable robes for his infiltration of the jail and they always framed him in a terrifying way. Robes and jails. He could look spectacularly evil when he wanted to and the robes just served as one of the props in that facade.

"Does my attire concern you?"

"Why the creepy-lookin' dress?" she asked, her brows beetling together.

"These are robes," Snape answered dryly. "And I wear them for comfort and the additional and highly practical purpose of terrifying small and helpless children, who find it amusing to stare at my nose."

This time, she didn't hold in the laughter. It bubbled out of her and Severus actually felt himself smile in response. It was probably far too long since she had been able to simply laugh and smile.

It was certainly a relief to know that she still had the ability.

"So you wearin' a bad-ass _dress _doesn't mean you're wicked evil?"

"My wearing high-necked _robes_," he replied, his expression deadpan. "Means only that I appreciate the fashion statement that various cultural icons have made through the centuries with flaring cloaks and the like."

"Like who?"

"Darth Vader," he sniffed, trying to smother a chuckle as she doubled over laughing.

"I didn't think that wizards would watch Star Wars," she said, shaking her head, still laughing. It was definitely good progress. She was starting to feel comfortable around him. Not trusting him yet, but comfortable. "Especially not someone like you..."

"Proving that things are not always how they appear," he said seriously.

She nodded. "I know that feeling," she said. "So, if you haven't killed me by morning, maybe you aren't as wicked creepy as you look."

"Now, I wouldn't go that far. I most certainly am as...er...wicked creepy as I look."

One side of her mouth rose in a half-smile. "Its kinda funny lookin' at you lookin' like that," she remarked. "I'm busted outta jail by a guy with a magic stick who wears more dresses than I do."

"You really are trying to try my patience, are you not?"

"Just letting you know what you're in for, Sev," she replied, getting to her feet and picking up the pyjamas, hugging them to her chest as if they were the most precious gift she had ever received.

"I always had my suspicions," he said, sitting back a little on the bed to allow her to pass and go into the small en suite bathroom to change.

Leaning over the narrow bed, he retrieved a black-covered book he had left on the mattress, opening the thick, parchment pages and retrieving then never-empty quill from the margin.

His journal.

He kept all his thoughts and ponderings closed within it's heavy covers. Placing the tip of the quill to the page, he started to scratch on the parchment, barely even aware of the return of his young charge, until she eased passed him to get to her bed, clad in the baggy, cosy pyjamas.

Strangely shy, she climbed into the bed, pulling the blankets up, fluffing the pillows before she lay down on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "Sev."

"Yes?"

She wet her lips, then looked across at him. "Th-thank you."

His black eyes met her dark brown ones. "It was my privilege and pleasure, Faith."

She gave him a smile, a hesitant, nervous one, but a smile nonetheless, as she turned onto her side and reached over to switch the light off beside her bed. "Night," she said into a yawn.

"You don't mind if I leave my light on for the time being, so I can finish making some notes, Faith?" he murmured, raising his eyes from the page to the girl in the bed opposite him, an indulgent smile coming to his lips.

She was already asleep, exhausted.

Her left arm was hooked up, under the pillow, which her head was resting on. Her dark hair spread around her, making her thin, pale face look even frailer by the sick yellow light of the lamp behind him.

It hurt to see a young one as emotionally fractured as this girl was. He knew that, without question, he would protect her from the world, from anything that would dare to try and hurt her again.

No one deserved it, especially not a girl as unique as this one.

Placing his book down, Severus reached across the gap between the beds, brushing tangled strands of hair back from the girl's face. "Get some rest," he said softly. "We have a lot to talk about in the morning."

***

The first thing that Severus was aware of the next morning was waking to the sound of rushing water. Squinting in the morning light as he opened his eyes, he tried to remember exactly where he was and what was going in.

Unsurprisingly, as he often did, he had fallen asleep over his books, seated with his back against the headboard of the bed. He had a lot of work with him, so he wasn't too far behind, when he returned to Hogwarts.

Bringing up his left hand to rub his face, his neck cricked as he tilted his to one side, then the other. His eyes drifted to the other bed in the room, where his charge had fallen asleep the night before.

It was empty.

Jerking upright immediately, he was almost on his feet when he heard a click from the en suite bathroom door and looked up to see Faith walking back into the bedroom area, towelling her long hair dry.

"Faith," he sighed, sinking back down in relief.

"Hey, Sev," she shook her hair back. She was wearing a pair of black trousers and a loose, grey T-shirt, which she had clearly taken from the small bag of clothing he had left at the end of her bed. "Oh..." she looked down at herself. "I...you don't mind, do you? I just figured..."

"I brought them for you," he answered, wishing that he had remembered to change back out of his robes. Yes, they were comfortable to wear, but - damn it - they were bloody awkward to sleep in.

He was amazed he hadn't strangled himself in the night.

"You...you brought all that stuff for me?"

Irritably fighting a losing battle with the buttons of his collar, he arched an eyebrow at her. "You are surprised?"

"Well...yeah," she answered, with a helpless shrug, her eyes on the large satchel of clothing. She honestly looked completely stunned. "No one ever did anything like this for me. I always had to do everything for myself," She gave him a lop-sided grin, a strange emotion in her eyes. "And now, I have my own Santa Sev."

He snorted at the analogy, but still, he was beginning to understand just why Faith was the person she was. Growing up to be a Slayer was trial enough for a normal girl, but when that normal girl was forced to be a tough, independent individual before the age of eighteen...

Sitting back down on her bed, she brought the damp towel down to her lap, her hair hanging in strings around her face. A pensive look crossed her face as he sat up fully, finally succeeding in unfastening his collar and slipping his outer robes off.

"Sev?" she finally asked, as he massaged his throat.

"Severus," he corrected.

"Right, Sev, what am I gonna do now?" She looked up at him, worry and unease etched in her features. "You said you were gonna help me, when you visited. You didn't tell me how and now, you got me all busted outta jail and I don't know what I'm meant to do."

Snape looked at her. "You have two choices, Faith," he answered. "One of them is that you can return to your prison and wait for the next assassin to come along and try and kill you, or you can take my offer."

The tiniest clenching of her jaw and narrowing of her eyes did not go unnoticed by the astute Potions Professor. "And what's the offer?" she asked, sounding casual and glib, but for the tremor in her voice.

"Protection, shelter and help."

"Huh?"

"Faith, I won't lie to you. I know you were a murderess," She physically flinched at his words, looking away, her face contorted in self-loathing, and he had to force himself to continue. "When I was around the same age as you are now, I was part of a group who were, among other things, murderers. I was one of them."

"Y-you?"

His lips lifted in a bitter smile. "I did inform you that I had been where you are now, didn't I?" he said quietly. "Dumbledore was my salvation. I wanted to escape from the darkness that was devouring me," Faith nodded in understanding. "Dumbledore was the only one to offer me a lifeline. He pulled me out of the dark, helped me to find my feet again and protected me." 

"And now, you wanna do the same for me?"

"It is a large part of the reason," he admitted. "Even though he is gone, I still feel that I could never repay all that I owe him. I believe that he would approve of me aiding you, doing for you what he did for me. I have a duty to you."

"Wish I coulda met the guy."

Severus smiled sadly. "You would have liked him," he said quietly. "Once you reached passed that infernal sense of humour of his, he and you would have got on very well indeed."

There was a long silence, as he looked down at his folded hands and she looked down at hers, which were twisting the towel.

"Where would I go?"

Black eyes met brown. "You would remain with me and I would stand as your protector or guardian or whatever term you feel comfortable with, if you don't mind my company."

"That doesn't answer where we would be," she said and he chuckled. 

"Very clever, Faith," he said, tapping his fingertips together. "You recall that I am a teacher at a wizarding school?" She nodded. "I have spoken with the Head Mistress and she and I both believe you could be of aid there."

"In a magic school?" she asked, sceptically. "Small problem. No magic. Plus not exactly good with dealing with a school. Kinda dropped out when I was sixteen."

"There are many other elements of the school aside from the magic and education, Faith," Severus murmured, watching the tips of his fingers whiten as he pressed them together. "Grounds keeping, self-defence training, assisting the staff, manual work, general counselling of pupils. There are many things you could do and I am certain that you are not going back to that damn box they call a prison."

"So, in other words, my choices are going with you or going with you by force?"

Black eyes flicked to her, glittering. "Ah, you have already learned to understand my codes of implication."

"Well," she gave him a lop-sided grin. "I guess that means I'm coming with you. Its a helluva lot easier than living as a fugitive."

"Did I mention you will be living in a castle?"

"Wicked cool!"


	4. Chapter Four

Nocturne Grim

Chapter Four

Notes: *cries* Too many fics...head...imploding...too many crossovers...brain turning to puddle of curdled mush...and on top of everything...bloody dissertation. Who gave the uni the idea that we actually ought to WORK for our degrees? Gah...

On a sidenote, sorry for taking so long with this chapter. With some characters, I have to be in a certain frame of mind to write them and Faith is definitely one of those kind of characters.

However, on a nice note, people have remarked on this being an 'original' crossover, because of the lack of 'going to Hogwarts and meeting the trio'-ness. *le shrug* 

I just liked the idea of putting Snape and Faith (two of my favourite characters ever!) in the same room ;) It never struck me that I was doing something original, but since it has been pointed out, I got ooshy-gooshy feelings :)

I am, however, on the lookout for a way to do a Lucius/Anya or Snape/Anya romance, because personally, I think it would be downright hilarious. 

Anyway, shutting up now.

_____________________________

Standing by the window of the motel, the lace curtains drawn back, Faith gazed out on the city street, her arms folded over her chest. Beyond her line of sight, the sun was edging down over the horizon, the sky turning a rich, burnt orange.

Behind her, sitting on one of the beds, she could hear the quiet scratch of Sev writing in his book. He used a feather quill, which looked wicked cool, instead of sticking with a pen like any normal person.

He had informed her that they would be leaving that night to arrive in the morning in Scotland, where - if she could really believe every word the guy was saying - she would be living in a castle.

They would use something similar to the card that he had used to get her out of jail the night before, only this one would take them straight to the school-castle that would be her new home.

It was necessary to wait to a certain time, he had said, because in a matter of a split second, the school's defences against invasion by portkey would be lowered, so they could be transported directly to the grounds.

Something about knowing that this school-castle had defences against invasions of all kinds was kinda frightening to think about, to know that something had to be under the protections of so many kinds of magic.

It was crazy, but some part of her knew it was just crazy enough to be true.

And Sev...

He was okay.

He hadn't tried anything. 

He hadn't even tried to touch her without her permission, which had definitely been a first, guys usually crawling over each other to grab her and touch her up, whether they were wanted or not.

Shifting slightly, Faith leaned against the glass, her forehead resting against the cool pane, to peer around the window ledge for a last glimpse of the sun as it disappeared down into the sea.

It was the first time she had been able to watch a sunset for months and even seeing it from a motel window beat not seeing it at all, the colours brighter and more vivid than she remembered them.

"Faith," Sev's voice cut in on her thoughts.

"Mmm?"

"Perhaps you ought to move away from the window," he suggested quietly. "There may be enemies on every street corner and it would hardly be polite to have yourself killed, when Professor McGonagall is expecting you."

Faith's lips curled up a little.

If anyone was going to see her, they would have seen her in the last half hour. She had been pressed against the glass since the sun had started to go down, watching the colours spread across the sky with a wonder she hadn't felt since... well... ever.

He knew she needed to see it and he'd let her, only adding the warning on as a casual disclaimer, so she was aware of it.

Not that she needed the warning, every single face that glanced towards the third-level window making her instinctively pull back, out of sight, just in case something or someone recognised her.

No one did, of course.

She didn't look anything like she remembered.

When she had showered that morning, she had been able to look herself over in the mirror, which wasn't cracked or graffitied like the ones in jail, and she had barely recognised her own face.

Sev had been right when he said jail was killing her.

She hadn't been able to see it while she was there, feeling it more than witnessing it, but when she saw her face...

The only time she'd looked that bad was when she had been in a coma for nearly a year, her face pale, deep, dark shadows under her eyes that looked haunted. She was a lot thinner too, too thin really.

She was wearing the grey T-shirt and black pants he had brought for her. They were her usual size. Or, at least, they had been her usual size, before she went to jail. Now, they were far too big and she had to use a belt to hold her pants up.

Stepping back from the glass, she watched the ripples of fabric as the curtains fell back down in place, then slowly turned around to face Sev, where he was sitting, his attention apparently fully on what he was writing.

Not that it fooled her.

He always had an eye on her, just making sure she was comfortable. Several times, without warning, he had asked her if she was all right, the second she changed her posture and expression at the same time.

He noticed everything. 

Everything.

This guy was a Master of the Sneaky. 

He had given her a few more details of his past during the day, telling her a little of his time as a spy for the forces of good, though not much. She had learned enough to realise that he was way smart and kinda like an uber-Bond in a dress.

_Robes_, she mentally corrected herself.

Carefully sitting down on her bed, she pulled her legs around and crossed them in front her, folding her hands in her lap and watching him as his hand continued to glide across the page.

"Whatcha writin'?" she finally asked, when his hand stilled.

Black eyes lifted to her face. "I thought you might wish to inform some friends and allies about your change in circumstances," he replied. "And I am writing a letter to provide an explanation from a formal source, should you desire to send something."

"Send somethin'? You mean like a letter?"

"You have friends here, do you not?"

Faith wet her lips nervously. "Yeah..." She nodded, squeezing her interlocked hands between her thighs. "Yeah, there's Angel. He... he was helpin' me and I kinda... I do kinda want B to know what's the what..."

"B?"

"Buffy," she explained haltingly. "The other Slayer..." She looked down at her hands, then back at him. As far as she knew, he didn't know the full back-story with B, how they had loved and hated each other in equal measures. "Don't want her gettin' any crazy ideas that she's gonna get a new baby sister to cause trouble for her."

Sev gazed at her, lowering his quill. "In spite of everything, you know that word of your demise would cause her pain," he said quietly. Faith stared at him. How in the hell did he have her worked out so easily? "You would not wish to hurt her anymore than you already have."

"Uh... yeah... yeah, I guess that's it."

One side of is mouth crooked up. "You still have trouble believing I have been in the same boat as you have and that I have experiences far too similar to your own," he remarked, tugging a few sheets free from his book and holding them out to her. "Write whatever you feel and I will see they are delivered as soon as possible."

Faith looked down at the paper, then back at him. "What am I meant to say?" she asked uselessly. "I don't do letters. Hell, I don't do goodbyes or reasons. What do I write? 'Hey, B and Angel, thanks for having me. Sorry I was a bitch and for almost killing you both. A lot. Oh and hey! I got out of jail to live in a castle in Scotland, because some freaky guy called Sev thinks it's gonna be better for me. See ya, Faith'? I don't think that's gonna go down real well with the Watcher guys. They want me to earn my way out..."

"And so you shall," Sev said calmly. "As for what you write, what you just said would suffice, although I would prefer if you would remember that my name is not Sev, but Severus. Three syllables. Surely that is not too complicated."

There was a gentle teasing tone in his voice that made her grin at him. "Sure, Sev," she retorted. "And you're not wearin' a freaky-ass dress."

"Actually," he said, his expression dead-pan, but for the glint in his dark eyes. "At the moment I am, but I would greatly appreciate it if you kept my cross-dressing tendencies between us for the moment." 

Faith blinked at him. She had been really trying to work the guy out since that morning, but he kept on surprising her. Shaking her head, she tried to smother a burst of laughter unsuccessfully. 

Something about him was... wicked creepy, but he was so damn cool and had been so great to her already. He had such a dry, sarcastic sense of humour that she couldn't help laughing at pretty much everything he said in that tone of voice.

"You have gotta be joking, right!"

Sev gave her an implacable look. "I never joke," he replied, expression serious.

Trying to force her mouth down to hide a grin, she failed miserably, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. His eyes caught hers and she was sure she saw one side of his mouth lift again.

Coughing, to hide the laugh that bubbled up inside her, she reached over to the desk drawer and opened it, grateful to find a motel-provided pen lying there, a little gummy and dirty, but still in working order.

Sev made a clicking sound of disapproval with his tongue.

"What?"

"People wonder why the wizarding world is superior to the muggle world." he sighed, shaking his head. "When you use plastic tubes to write, I feel the urge to mourn the loss of civilisation."

"Old-fashioned guy, huh?"

He gave her a look that said more than a hundred words, one brow rising.

"Call me modern," she replied, equally seriously, although she was having a lot of trouble keeping her face straight. "But I kinda don't like the idea with something that was pulled outta a bird's ass."

This time, it was Sev who was forced to smother a snort of laughter, Faith fighting to hide a grin of glee at the fact she had managed to trigger that reaction in a guy who looked like he didn't laugh much, if ever.

***

"Whoa!"

Landing heavily on her knees on the grass, a hand spreading to balance herself, Faith swayed unsteadily for several seconds, the ground taking a few moments to stabilise beneath her feet.

"Are you all right?" Sev asked, touching her shoulder.

Nodding, she raised a hand to acknowledge him, swallowing down the feeling of motion sickness that the Portkey made her feel. How Sev could deal with the weird spinning, land on his feet and look as if nothing had happened, she didn't know.

Inhaling slow breaths, she managed to regain her focus and raised her head, shaking her hair back from her face.

And immediately was convinced that her world was spinning again.

To her far left, there was a dark woodland, but it was the view in front of her that made her stare. A broad expanse of grass spread out in front of her leading up towards the most amazing building she had ever seen in her life.

It was a castle!

It was an honest-to-mother-of-God castle!

Tall, round towers and turrets rose from oblong off-white stone buildings, windows lining the walls and glinting in the early morning light. Archways and statues provided elaborate decoration for the walls.

In the light of dawn, it seemed to take on an ethereal glow, the whole place radiating an incredible power and... safeness that Faith had never felt anywhere else. It was as if the whole place was a home, instead of just a building.

"Holy shit..."

"Most eloquent," Sev sounded amused as he bent closer to her. One hand under her left elbow, he drew her back up onto her feet, his light but firm hold preventing her from falling. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Staring in awe, Faith found herself wondering if it would be a kinda bad thing to take pictures and send them to Angel and B. They would have loved it, she knew, even just looking at it from the outside.

It just felt so welcoming.

"We had best meet Professor McGonagall, before the student body emerge..." Sev said, propelling her forward gently. "Unless you have a sudden odd compulsion to be surrounded by a thousand excitable children." 

"I'm kinda thinking not on that," Faith replied with a shudder. 

It was gonna take long enough adjusting to having one guy around her. A thousand kids wasn't gonna be the best thing to make her feel right at home, right away, when she was used to being alone.

"And you recall..."

"That I'm not allowed to let anyone know that you do actually have a sense of humour," She started marking the list off on her hand. "A personality and a thing for wearing chick's clothes."

"Particularly?"

"The sense of humour?"

He nodded. "That would be accurate."

"Y'know, most guys would be more... I dunno... spazzy about their students figurin' out that they wear dresses."

Black eyes looked down at her as they approached the immense archway. "I hope that reminds you that I am most certainly not 'most guys', Faith," he replied, a chuckle escaping him as she swore again, using words that no normal teenager should, at the sight of the staircase leading into the actual school.

Shaking her head, she stared around at the massive buildings, arches and everything around her, awe etched on her face.

"You approve of the school?"

"This is awesome! I've never seen anything like it!"

She was still trying to drink in everything around them, as they slowly ascended the staircase, almost tripping on her face a dozen times on the way up the flight, too busy looking elsewhere.

"Good morning, Severus. And would I be right in presuming this is Faith?"

Faith turned from staring out at the grounds to find a tall - and kinda scary-lookin' - witch standing in front of them, her hands folded in the voluminous sleeves of deep green robes.

She looked like she had been sucking one too many lemons, her lips pursed and her expression serious, suggesting that she had been through a lot and was still trying to deal with everything and more. 

Black hair, liberally streaked with grey, was pulled back in a tight knot at the base of her skull, which was visible underneath the wide-brimmed, pointed black hat.

"Wicked cool..." Faith couldn't help staring. The witch's green eyes were full of energy and fire, which totally undercut her severe looks. "Sev, she looks just like a real witch...I mean, without the warts and everything..."

"That," the witch answered in a slight Scottish burr, a slight twinkle in her eyes. "Is because I am a real witch, just as Severus is a real wizard. He simply refuses to wear his pointed wizard's hat."

"Damn, Sev," Faith shook her head mournfully. "And there was me thinkin' you knew when to accessorize." She looked at him expectantly, hoping she hadn't just earned a glare.

His eyes glittered with amusement, but he looked deadly serious. "Faith..."

Raising her hands defensively, she gave him a tentative smile. "I know, I know. Keep fashion and clothes and everything else out of the conversation. Right. Got it. Won't mention hats, dresses or those itty bitty thongs I saw in your bathroom."

The witch in front of them had one hand pressed against her mouth and looked like she was hard-pressed to smother a grin. Sev, on the other hands, was trying to look pissed, but was failing miserably.

"Perhaps," Sev remarked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "I ought to introduce you to one another, then leave this school permanently, before my reputation is shot to ribbons in a matter of minutes."

"Too late," Faith smirked at him, receiving an arched eyebrow. "Hey! You brought me here, Sev! Not my fault!" Turning to the witch in front of them, she tilted her head in question.

"I am Minerva McGonagall," the witch said. "Head Mistress of the school."

The former Slayer looked her up and down. "When Sev said they had a Head Mistress here, I figured she would be way old. You look wicked glamorous for a Head Mistress and those robes... wicked cool."

"Thank you, Miss...?" McGonagall actually looked flattered, although not totally convinced. She extended a long, bony hand to the Slayer.

"Just Faith," the girl replied with a shrug, shaking the Head Mistress's hand. "Never knew my dad's name, never wanted my mom's, so Faith is good enough for me. It's real nice of you to have me here."

"You have Severus to thank for that," McGonagall said warmly. "He has assured me that he intends to take care of you, while you choose to remain here."

Faith shot a look at Sev, who was looking emotionless. "Yeah... he's a good guy."

"Severus," the Head Mistress directed her words at him. "Would you prefer to rest for today and resume teaching next week to allow you time to settle and perhaps show Faith a little of the school?"

Sev dipped his chin slightly. "I think that would be best, Head Mistress," he replied, his tone nothing like Faith had heard it before. He sounded so... formal and proper, nothing like the guy she had spent time with. "Also, Faith would prefer to remain discreetly out of the way at present, until she is familiar with social interaction again."

"I'm sure that will be fine, Severus," McGonagall replied, folding her hands in her sleeves again. "We have taken the opportunity to have the room near yours vacated and refurbished for Faith's arrival."

"Re-refurbished?" Faith interrupted. "You didn't need to go to any trouble. I'm good as long as I got a roof over my head. Spartan is fine by me."

The Head Mistress gave her a small smile. "Unfortunately, my dear," she said with a heavy sigh. "It's far too late now, so I suppose you will simply have to deal with the room we provided. I do hope it won't be over-done."

"Sarcasm is a way British thing, right?" Faith muttered to Sev, who just chuckled.


	5. Chapter Five

Nocturne Grim

Chapter Five

Notes: Apologies for the delay on this chapter, but my inner-Severus refused to co-operate and then, it got barricaded by Fractured Triangle, which had an chapter ending that has been screwing with my brain for weeks. Now, though, FT 12 is done and I can work on this! Yay! And Legacy! And Eighth! And Little Red! And Cha... oh, I give up. I can work on everything! Although, I should be doing that thingie for uni... oh, what was it called? Oh yes. Dissertation :P Nine days to go...

______________________________

"You know this place is wicked creepy, right?"

Severus Snape looked down at the girl walking beside him, a trace of amusement curling his lip. "To hear such a statement from a young woman who professionally slew demons strikes me as slightly incongruous."

"Huh?"

"You are a Vampire Slayer and spent the best part of a year fighting in demons and monsters that terrorise most children in cemeteries at the dead of night and yet, you find the basements of a castle somewhat unsettling," he translated with a chuckle. "It is amusingly ironic."

Faith pulled a face at him and he was sure he heard her mutter something along the muffled lines of 'stake', 'ass' and 'cranky jerk'.

Side by side, they were descending down into the belly of the school, where his own rooms were. Minerva McGongall had apparently taken the liberty of moving one of the other suites on the floor to the empty dungeon next to his own room.

It had taken a great deal of effort on the part of the Head Mistress to convince the castle to juggle two rooms, but the Potions Professor was wont to admit that he trusted her to have made suitable arrangements.

As Faith had observed, the halls were dark and gloomy with an unnaturally chilly feel to them. Many pupils were petrified of the dungeons and he could understand her distinct unease with the place.

The only light, aside from that pouring in the doorway that lead down the staircase, was provided by flaming torches, which either stood on top of four-feet high columns at regular intervals in the halls or hung on the walls of the staircases, in the arms of leering, diabolical-looking gargoyles.

"Is it always this cold?" she demanded, shivering a little, as they silently made their way along a black stone landing, towards another flight of stairs. "My tits are gonna freeze solid and poke right through my shirt if it don't get warmer."

His initial reaction was to snort with amusement at her word choice, but he quelled it, wondering how the devil he would keep his reputation as a sour-faced, bitter old man intact with the gutter-mouthed sprite who was currently hurrying along beside him and making him laugh at such regular intervals.

Honestly, it would not do.

"Thank you for that charming visualisation," Severus replied, gliding down the flight of stairs. He had perfected the art of moving so smoothly that it barely appeared he was taking a step.

Faith, however, hadn't and clomped noisily down the stairs in the heavy boots he had provided for her. "Sev, are you gonna tell me? Am I gonna need to get a thermal bra or somethin' to get by down here?"

"I am certain that an appropriate choice of undergarment will be found," he said, wondering how far he could tease her without her actually hitting him. "After all, I have heard that long-johns are rather becoming."

There was a choked sound of surprise from the girl and he mentally marked a one in the air, smirking slightly.

"You do not like them?"

"Actually," He felt her brush against his robed sleeve as she jogged along to keep up with his longer strides as they came to the bottom of the stairs. "I was just thinkin' how cute you'd look, flashin' your lily-white hinney out the buttflap."

He tried not to react, he really did, but a snort of mirth leaked out.

Damn it all!

It went without question that his reputation would reduced to tatters within minutes of her meeting the other staff members!

Flashing an irritable glare down at her, he received a half-grin back. "You're gonna have to try way harder than that to outdo me, Sev," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief by the light of the torches.

"A challenge, eh?"

"You bet. Think you can outdo me?"

He paused in the middle of the hall, looking at her with an expression that sent pupils sobbing in terror, folding his arms over his chest and arching his brow at her. "You doubt me?"

Faith looked like she was deliberating over the reply, then grinned again. "Sure."

"I ought to warn you," he said, trying to maintain the ominous tone of voice that had made him notorious. However, the broad grin on her face made it difficult. "There is yet to be a challenge that I cannot succeed in completing."

"Sev, baby," Rising on her toes, Faith pecked him on the cheek, then stepped back shaking her head. "You ain't seen competition until you tried to outdo a Slayer and in the come-back category? Well, you're lookin' at one of the top of the class. Comes with the Slayin' territory."

"What? A lack of intelligence and a penchant for formulaic and tedious puns?"

The girl laughed, then gave him an amused look. "Close, Sev, but I didn't know you had met B. You just described her perfectly."

"I assume," he said dryly. "That she was the embodiment of American perfection, with blonde hair, blue eyes, the perfect tan and spent her free time waving pompoms and spelling names with her arms."

Faith snickered beside him. "Close, but no cigar," she said. "Blonde, yeah. Perfect tan, yeah. Hazel eyes, but big no on the cheerleading thing. Don't remember the whole story, but there was somethin' about a witch and spontaneous combustion and blindin' and a whole other lotta things of the not good."

Although he knew it was probably a touchy subject, Severus glanced down at her as he said, "You do not... get on well with her?"

"You know my deal," Faith's expression closed slightly, her voice clipped. "I was a damn good Slayer. Did what I was meant to, but got shit for credit when B was around. Got sick of being shoved on one side by the Golden Girl and her buddies. Went to the Boss. Found someone who didn't wanna shove me away, but the things he made me do to make sure I could be his girl..." There was a soft exhalation. "When you poison B's guy, she does kinda tend to take it personally. I wanted to hate her so bad, but I couldn't do it. She had everything and I had nothing. I wanted to hate her for it, but I couldn't..."

"But she could hate you?"

"She did eventually, yeah." Faith fidgeted with her T-shirt. "I think she woulda killed me, given the chance. After the whole body-stealin' thing a few weeks back, any thoughts she had of me bein' redeemed... I never thought I'd ever see her lookin' at me the same way everyone else did. B was always the one who cared. She tried, when no one else did, but last time I saw her... she was lookin' at me exactly the same way as everyone else."

Severus nodded in understanding. He remembered the faces of some of the members of staff when it had been revealed that he had been a Death Eater, in the wake of Dumbledore's death.

The hate and accusation directed at him by people who had trusted him for years had almost driven him to the brink of suicide on more than one occasion.

"She will forgive you," he said, raising a hand to squeeze Faith's shoulder. The girl made a sound of disbelief. "Faith, trust me when I say this. It will take time, but she will forgive you. After all, you are making amends for your crimes. If she continues to hold such things against you, she is truly unworthy of your consideration."

Slowly, she nodded, then shivered, looking around the hall. "So we gonna get to the rooms anytime soon or do we hang here til I turn into a popcicle."

Snape half-smiled, nodded and turned on heel, stalking onwards down the long, dark hallway. He could hear Faith hurrying after him, her feet pounding on the stone of the floor, practically walking on the tails of his robes.

It took another two minutes of walking the twisting corridors to reach the painting which head into his own room, another painting added on the wall less than eight feet from his own door.

"We're gonna stop and check out the décor?"

"This," he replied patiently, with a casual hand gesture towards the grim-looking old man in rags, sitting on a stool in the corner of the gloomy, empty room in the painting, lit only by a candle, which stood on the floor beside him. "Is the door my chambers. It is common practise here to utilise an occupied painting as a door, so that you may have a personal password, which will make your room inaccessible to anyone else, save those who you inform of the password."

"Neat," Faith remarked. "And I get one of these painting-door-thingies?"

Inclining his head to the painting a little further down the hall, Severus nodded. "I believe this will be the entrance to your chamber," he said, motioning for her to follow him. "To activate it to respond to you alone, you must be the first to touch it."

She glanced at him dubiously, then at the painting.

The figure in it was a striking young woman from some time in the previous century, dark honey coloured hair drawn back in a braid, loose strands curling around her face, which was proud-looking with bright blue eyes.

She was wearing loose grey pantaloons and a voluminously-sleeved white shirt, but that wasn't what appeared to catch the former Slayer's attention, her eyes widening as she stared at the figure. Severus smiled slightly, almost indulgently.

"Sev, is... was she a Slayer?"

"What causes you to suspect such a thing?" he asked innocently.

Faith gave him a pointed look. "Sev, this chick is armed. How many Victorian girls d'you know who had a sword and carried stakes? And a cross too? I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess she's my kinda girl."

"Why not ask her?"

"Ask?"

Severus nodded. "Touch the painting to activate it to your signature," he replied. "It will make it possible for you to make inquiries of the occupant."

Still wary, Faith touched the painting. The painting brightened instantly, the colours and light seeming to spread from Faith's hand outwards, until the whole image was vibrant with life.

"Is it meant to do that, Sev?" He nodded again, smiling as she stared, awe-struck at the painting. "Damn..."

"Is that your choice of password?"

"Holy shit!"

Severus couldn't contain a snort of amusement as Faith leapt back from the painting in fright, the occupant of which grinned down at her. "I ought to have mentioned that the paintings come to life, oughtn't I?"

Faith shot a look at him. "Mighta been useful," she retorted, then looked back up at the painting. The girl within it was stretching, as if she had been unable to move for some time. "So you're my door?"

"You might say that," the girl replied. "And yes, I was a Slayer in life."

"Bit of let down, huh? Goin' from Slayer to bedroom door?"

"Oh, it certainly is a lot less strenuous," the painting replied amiably, depositing the stake from her hand onto the work surface that stood beside her. "And I am able to find time to rest and socialise a good deal more. I must say I never imagined that I would come into contact with another Slayer."

"Ditto that," Faith acknowledged. "What was your name, anyhow? I kinda feel rude not knowin'."

The portrait smiled. "I was Ethel Harper," she replied. "I would offer to shake your hand in salutation, but I do believe it would be somewhat pointless. I do hope I can be of service as your portrait door."

"You know, I think we're gonna get on great," Faith laughed. "So what's the deal? Do I tell you my magic word here or what?"

Ethel scratched her chin pensively. "I do believe that it is more advisable to choose a password within the chamber, lest unfriendly ears hear," Her eyes darted significantly to Snape. "You are advised only to give your private password to those you trust."

"Sounds smart to me," Severus could hear the slight hitch in Faith's voice and knew, instinctively, that she wasn't sure whether she could trust him or not.

"Faith, if you would prefer, I will depart hence," he said, interrupting her thoughts and nodding towards his own chamber. "Should you wish to speak with me, I will be in my quarters. To gain access, simply state 'Onyx sonambulist'."

She gave him a grateful, yet puzzled look. "You don't gotta go..."

"If you would rather select your password and peruse your rooms in privacy, I would prefer you to be comfortable."

"How about I choose my password, then let you in?" she offered. "I mean, there's gotta be stuff I'm not gonna get in there, because of the whole magic school thing. If you wait here a second, I'll let you in."

"As you wish," he replied with a graceful unfurling of his hand.

"You don't mind me not tellin'?"

Severus could see the nervous apprehension that, yet again, she was afraid of doing something wrong.

"Faith," he replied gently. "This is a matter of your privacy and whom you trust to share it. You barely know me enough to trust me, so it would be unreasonable of me to expect anything more."

The gratitude and relief in her expression was palpable and she nodded wordlessly, slipping into the room and closing the painting behind her. A heartbeat later, it opened again and she motioned him in.

"Check it out!"

When Minerva had dryly made a comment about refurbishing, she had certainly been understating what had been done to the dark chamber.

The walls and ceiling were black stone, as most of the dungeons and foundations of the school were crafted from the same. However, bright, warm, colourful tapestries and drapes made them look more inviting.

The room had been sectioned off into specifically themed areas. In the far left corner, there was a small training area, which would no doubt be supplemented by a larger room at a later date.

To the far right side, there was the sleeping area, with a large, four poster bed with deep blue drapes. The near right was the comfortable seating area with a squashy-looking jewel-red couch in front of a fireplace. The near left led into a bathroom that - while tiny by Hogwarts standards - was large and luxurious by muggle standards.

"This is wicked cool!" Faith raced across the thick carpet that covered the floor and threw herself onto the bed, almost bouncing two feet off the mattress, a laugh of pure delight escaping her.

"You approve?"

"Hell yeah!" Rolling onto her feet, Faith paused, staring at the window in the wall that faced the door, which apparently looked out onto the grounds. Turning to Snape, she pointed at the window. "Aren't we in the basement?"

Making his way across the room, Severus admired McGonagall's consideration for the girl. She knew that Faith would have been confined in a viewless cell for months and to include a charmed window...

"I believe that this is a representation of what you would see, had you been situated in one of the rooms on the upper levels of the school," he replied. "It is charmed, so you will see what it is like outside, without the necessity to trail up every staircase."

Walking closer, Faith stared at it. "Cool..." she murmured. Stretching out her hand, she looked utterly amazed when her hand touched the 'glass' and she leaned forward in the sill. "I can look down and get a different view! This is so neat!"

"You do not wish to change anything? I am sure..."

"Sev, it's great!" Spinning around, her eyes roamed everywhere and a broad smile lit up her thin features. "This place is the kick!"

"Indeed."

An apologetic half-grin crossed her face. "That means it's good, Sev," she translated, her eyes dancing. Walking around the room, she looked completely in awe. "So what do I gotta do now?"

Turning to watch her progress around the room, Severus spread his hands. "Make yourself comfortable and settle in here," he replied. "There is nothing required of you at present, as you will have a great deal to adjust to."

"Find my feet, huh?"

"An adequate summation."

Running her hand along the back of the couch, the smile on her face made her look even more like a child with nothing, who had just been given everything they had ever wanted. "Thank you, Sev," she said sincerely, turning her back to him to watch her hands moving on the back of the couch. "God knows I don't deserve this."

Approaching her, he laid his hands on her shoulders gently. She jumped at the initial contact, but didn't pull away. "Faith, after the Hell you have fought your way through since childhood, I can not imagine someone who deserves this more than you."

One of her small, thin hands came up and squeezed his knuckles briefly.

After a moment, Severus drew away from her. "I will leave you to settle in," he said quietly. "Should you require anything at all, you know where I will be found. Do not hesitate to ask."

She nodded once, not looking around, and Severus turned, striding out of the room.


	6. Chapter Six

Nocturne Grim  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Notes: Apologies for the delay on this particular chapter, but life has been hectic as all get out and because of that, my Buffy muse departed. That, I can tell you, was very frustrating, especially with the number of crossovers I have on the go at present. Then, in a role-play, I started playing both Spike and Faith (In a world where real people, Lord of the Rings, Silmarillion, Firefly, Buffy, Tombstone, Quills and Angelverse collide over different points of history and future) and saw a couple of episodes of S2 of Buffy and bam! The muse returned :D So here we go!  
  
Night had fallen on Hogwarts and in the deep basement of the school, a single figure sat in a deep window ledge, looking out onto the charmed image of the grounds, her flannel-pyjama-covered knees pulled up against her chest as she watched rain falling lightly from a mist-threaded sky.  
  
On the other side of the room, a fire was crackling brightly in the grate, casting a warm glow over the whole room, including the bed, upon which the blanket was folded back, the rumpled white sheets visible.  
  
It was over twelve hours since Faith had crash-landed in the grounds of the wicked cool castle school-place that was apparently going to be her home now and she had never felt quite so comfortable anywhere as she did right there.  
  
And that was what was worrying her.  
  
So much so that she'd tossed and turned, unable to sleep, thinking, worrying, arguing with herself.  
  
It was crazy and she knew it.   
  
If Sev had wanted her dead, she had no doubts she woulda been dead already. She'd seen him workin' the hocus pocus and if he could do that, there had to be a spell that'd kill her stone dead before she could even think about hittin' him.  
  
If the Head Witch wanted her dead, exactly the same could be said.   
  
Faith shook her head.  
  
It just was all just way too perfect, too tidy, too much like something hellish waiting to happen.  
  
Sighing, she pressed her head back against the dark stone of the window frame, closing her eyes, the chill of the stone seeping through her thick socks.  
  
It was the fear kicking in again.   
  
Any time something good had ever happened to her, it went without sayin' that badness would be close on its tail, ready to bite her on the ass and bring her world crashing down around her for the God only knew how many-th time.  
  
Looking back into the room, part of her wanted to try and keep it at a distance, not to get too attached to anything in case anything happened and she was turned out on the street. Hell, if it all turned to be a freakin' joke to screw with her head...  
  
"Shut up!" she hissed at herself. "You're bein' so damn stupid!"  
  
It wasn't like she didn't have reason enough to be paranoid, taking her past record into account, but nothing had happened so far to say she was in any danger, about to get turned out on her ass or anything else.  
  
Though, from those same experiences, she couldn't help raising her guard, expecting the worst at any second.  
  
Swinging off the window ledge, her feet sinking into the deep, thick rug that covered the bare stone floor, she paced across to the fireplace, flinging herself into the chair in front of the fire, exhaling a sigh of frustration.  
  
Sev had told her to rest and she had tried, but every time, her thoughts started to drive her crazy.  
  
Like this whole situation wasn't crazy enough already.  
  
Being busted out of jail by a wizard in a dress. Being given a wicked cool room in the basement of a castle that was a school. Being free to make everything up by helping out where she could and maybe even think about becoming a Slayer again.  
  
Tucking her feet up underneath her body for warmth, Faith curled her arms up on the massive, soft arm of the couch, resting her head on her folded arms as she watched the bright flame licking along the logs in the fire.  
  
This was a good place.  
  
She could feel it, without even trying.   
  
And hey! Judging by the kids laughing and moving around outside of the room, while she had been trying out everything, she could tell that they were happy. Any place where kids were happy at school had to be good.  
  
Glancing at the clock over the mantle, she groaned impatiently.  
  
It was well past midnight and she had been up much more than twenty-four hours, but her body refused to let her sleep and if she didn't get to sleep soon, she knew cabin fever was gonna kick in.  
  
She had never been good at staying in one place at one time.   
  
Jail had been hell for her, locked up in a small room, nowhere to go, nothing changing, and now, she was in a whole new place, new things to see, and she was hidin' away in a room in the dungeons.  
  
Pushing herself out of the chair, she started pacing again, restlessly, back and forth across the rug in front of the fire, the warm light trickling up her body as she continued to walk.  
  
One o'clock.   
  
One thirty.  
  
Two.  
  
Uttering a groan of frustration, she stomped over to the spot where her slippers seemed to be buried in the thick rug, tugging on her thick, crazy-fluffy robe, before making her way towards the door and pushing it open.  
  
The halls were pitch dark in both directions, a worried frown creasing her brow.  
  
If she did try and go wanderin' at this time of night, who was to say she wouldn't run into some kinda weird creepy thing in the dungeons? Being eaten on her first night or killin' one of the teachers pets didn't sound like the best of ideas.  
  
Glancing back into her room, Faith chewed her lip for a moment, then sighed. There was no way she was gonna get any rest until she'd wandered around a bit and her room just wasn't gonna be good enough for that. Not when she needed to see more than four walls.  
  
After so long stuck in the jail with only so many walls and faces and pieces of crappy furniture, being in a new place just begged for her to go and have a look around and see what was the what.  
  
The fact is was a big-ass castle made it so much more tempting.  
  
Pulling her thick robe around her, she stepped out into the hall, surprised to see a warm light shining out from the painting that worked as her door. Peering around at the Slayer in the frame, she grinned.   
  
Seated in a large chair - stolen from several paintings along, judging by the dark looks and bruises the occupant was sporting - Ethel looked like she had dozed off, her chin resting on her chest, a curly ringlet of fair hair rising with ever exhaled breath. A lamp stood on the counter beside her, casting a soft glow on the occupant and all that stood before her.   
  
At least, she figured, she'd be able to find her way back here okay.  
  
Shivering, she started towards the staircase she and Sev had come down earlier in the day. Passing his room, she couldn't help smiling. The guy was wicked creepy, uber-dark and loomy and everything else, but he had been good to her, already.  
  
He'd let her settle in for a few hours, going off to do his teaching thing and coming back to her any time he could, to be sure she didn't need or want anything. She had everything she'd ever needed; food, clothes, training gear, privacy.  
  
Her footfalls were light as she ascended the stairs, even one floor of difference making her feel way warmer than the dungeons, which felt so damn cold, she was sure if she didn't keep movin' her ass would freeze right off.  
  
It took nearly fifteen minutes for her to reach the ground-level of the school, emerging into a moonlit hallway, the light spreading through tall, arched windows onto the pale stone of walls and floor.  
  
Wandering along the arch-roofed hall, her arms wrapped about her, she looked at the paintings and portraits lining the walls. Some of the residents were sleeping where they sat, other frames seemed empty and occasionally, she saw figures moving here and there.  
  
The corridor continued for a long time, finally opening up into a huge hall with staircases heading upwards and massive doors on the far side, the floor a patchwork of black and white tiles beneath the Slayer's slippered feet, moonlight dappling those very tiles in pale blue.  
  
Making her way towards the doors, Faith pulled one open carefully, a slice of night light spilling into the hall, across the polished floor, bright from the cloudless sky and the half-moon hanging hazily above the distant hills.  
  
"Holy crap..." she whispered in awe, the silver-washed grounds of the school spreading out before her for miles, the ripples of light playing upon the surface of the night darkened lake, every star dotted in replica on the water.  
  
"It is rather impressive, isn't it?"  
  
Whirling round, Faith started at the sight of a man standing less than ten steps behind her, a ripple of cold running down her spine. There was somethin' way off about him, somethin' that got her Slayer sense tinglin'.   
  
Then, he smiled at her, warm and genuine, his pale eyes and features weary as he neared her and looked out on the grounds. Like her, he was wearing night clothes, but his robe was patched and frayed, a pocket half hanging off and his grey-touched sandy hair tousled.  
  
"I've known this place since I was a child and it still amazes me." he said softly.  
  
"Huh?" Staring at him, Faith blinked. He was givin' off a weird-ass vibe, but he hadn't made any move to attack her or anythin', so she couldn't be sure whether he was a what or even a who.  
  
The man smiled again, just the slightest crease of his lips. "I probably shouldn't have crept up on you," he observed quietly, holding out a hand to her. "I'm Remus Lupin. I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts here."  
  
Faith stared at the extended hand, then looked back up at the guy's face. He looked way too tired and way too nice to be an uber-evil, but then, she'd looked okay and she'd been sent down for stickin' knives in the guts of sweet old professors.  
  
Then again, he was a teacher here and he didn't look near as damn creepy as Sev did.  
  
After a hesitation, she shook the guy's hand briefly. It was thin, cool and dry in hers, almost too thin, like he'd been sick or somethin'. "Faith," she replied, trying her best to pull on a smile and failing impressively. "Just Faith. I'm... uh..."  
  
"Severus' charge," the man finished for her, giving her the words she needed. It was the ideal way to describe her and Sev's arrangement, but she wouldn't have been able to put it so simply or delicately. The man smiled a little at her grateful expression. "He did give us notice of your presence. The staff, that is."  
  
"How much did he tell you guys about me?" Faith demanded, a little more sharply than she intended to.  
  
Pale eyes regarded her for a moment. "He told us enough," he replied simply. Faith's expression didn't change, her eyes flicking over his body, taking in the shabby torn robes and the light scars that - nearly invisible - marred his face.  
  
Lupin didn't seem to mind her scrutiny, standing passively, his hands tucked into holey pockets, letting her take her time to peruse him and finally her eyes came back up to his.  
  
"You're not human, are ya?"  
  
"I did wonder if you might notice that," he replied calmly, then smiled that sad little smile again, canting his head curiously. "I'm a werewolf... and I hope that doesn't cause you any trouble."  
  
Faith couldn't help but smile at the guy's manner. She'd only met what? One werewolf before this guy and, despite the fact they were now in England and this guy was way older than Oz, she could see a kinda resemblance.  
  
"No problem, Mister," she said, shrugging and wrapping her arms around herself, shivering a little. "I knew a werewolf back in the U.S. He wasn't a bad guy. Kinda short with wicked cool hair. He was okay. Bit snarly and drooly, but not the kinda guy to gimme a problem. Got no reason to see you any different."  
  
Lupin's smile was genuine. "Which comes as a great relief to me, though I do hope I drool less."  
  
Faith stared at him, then grinned. "As long as it ain't on my boots, we're five by five." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, drawing a breath between her teeth. "Is it always so damn cold here?"  
  
"Welcome to Scotland, land of the free and the home of the cold," Lupin said dryly, then inclined his head towards the vast doors that stood at the top of the staircase behind them. "Would you like to get warmed up a little?"  
  
Faith back-stepped. "What kinda 'warmin' up'?" she demanded warily.  
  
The teacher raised a hand, a gentle, reassuring gesture. "Only hot chocolate and a log fire in the study, unless they're your enemies," he said, canting his head again. "You don't need to be afraid here, Faith. This is the safest place in the Wizarding World, if not the normal world too. Especially now."  
  
The Slayer rubbed her arms self-consciously, giving the werewolf a half-smile. "I guess that's gonna take some gettin' used to, huh?" she said, glancing towards the doors. "And that hot chocolate is soundin' real good right about now."   
  
Moving around the girl, Lupin started up the stairs without even looking back to see that she was following. Closing the front door, the Slayer ran quickly up after him, following him into a warm and friendly-looking room just off to the left of the bigger set of doors.  
  
"Whoa..."  
  
"Almost as impressive as the grounds, isn't it?" Lupin murmured, motioning to two vast seats by the fire and a table close to it. Upon the table, two mugs stood, as if he had been expecting her to join him at any time.  
  
"Shit, yeah," Faith replied, settling herself into one of the chairs, sinking into the plush cushions and groaning a little. "How big is this place?" she added, her eyes closed. "It just seems to get bigger and bigger."  
  
"For all we know, it might be infinite."  
  
There was a scrape of one of the mugs pushed across the table to her.   
  
"There are so many rooms that even we don't know where they all are, especially not since Dumbledore..." The man's voice trailed into silence and Faith glanced at him, seeing sadness on his features. "He is very much missed."  
  
"You knew him well, huh?" Faith curled her cold hands around the mug.  
  
Lupin smiled faintly, looking down into the dark surface of his chocolate. "He was my Head Master and the leader of the Alliance I was in during the war. I can't say I knew him particularly, but I can say I was acquainted with him."  
  
"Good guy?"  
  
"Exceptionally."  
  
Faith poked a small, white marshmallow under the surface of the thick, rich hot chocolate, recalling her old friends and enemies. "Musta been a strong guy, to lead your people," she said eventually, jabbing at the melting sweet.   
  
"People followed him," the man said simply. "He used to say what he would do, said what he knew and what had to be done and people would follow him, trusting in him, in his knowledge."  
  
Faith nodded. She recognised those kind of qualities in people. This old wizard-guy sounded kinda like B was. She didn't make people follow. They just looked at her and saw her as leader, whether she realised it or not.   
  
"According to rumour, he was one of the most powerful wizards this world has known." Lupin murmured, though he did not look up. "But he was never happier than when he was teaching."  
  
The Slayer smiled faintly. "I knew a guy," she said, after licking her sticky finger. "A Watcher, and he spent almost all his time researchin' and helpin' to save the world... and he was a goddamn librarian."  
  
"It is rather funny how a simple life can be the thing that the most powerful and knowledgeable people crave more than anything," Lupin said with a small smile, as he glanced at her. "Given a choice of fame and glory, or a quiet night in with no distraction, a mug of hot chocolate and a nice piece of cake, the majority would likely choose a quiet night in."  
  
"Wouldn't blame 'em," Faith replied quietly, watching the wispy coils of steam rising from her chocolate. "When you got a crazy life, sometimes, nothin' looks better than bein' a borin', quiet geek who doesn't have anythin' happenin' to them."  
  
"But, if you are in that situation to begin with," Lupin observed. "You would likely desire to be in the other one."  
  
"Yeah," Faith exhaled. B. Being the only 'One'. Being accepted. Being more than just the Second one. "Always wantin' one better than you got and tryin' to get it whichever way you can ." She blinked hard, her voice harsh. "That's when things get screwed up."  
  
If Lupin noticed her tone or the sudden tightness of her features, he made no indication of it. Gazing at the fire, he sat silently, as she mulled over her hot chocolate, his own growing cool in the mug.  
  
Only when her empty mug was placed on the table, did he look back at her, still turning his own mug between his hands. The flickering glow from the fireplace glimmered in his tired, grey eyes.  
  
"I suppose I should be heading back to my room," he said with a faint smile. "After all, I have a class to teach in the morning and it would hardly be fitting if the teacher slept through the class instead of the student."  
  
"What are you a teacher of?" Faith inquired, curious.  
  
Lupin smiled, though it was more a simple lift of one side of his mouth than anything else. "Defence Against the Dark Arts," he replied. "Teaching the children how to fight against dark magics and creatures."  
  
The Slayer couldn't hide a grin. "You're a werewolf and you're teachin' the kids how to fight things like you?"  
  
"Practically," Lupin replied, running his hand through his hair and leaving it standing in all directions. "I suppose I give them a better understanding of what they would be dealing with, though - now - most of them are unlikely to ever encounter anything more dangerous that a gnome."  
  
"No demons hereabouts, huh?"  
  
"Well, nothing we can't be rid of fairly easily," Lupin replied. "One of the benefits of being part of the wizarding world is that we do know about their existence, at least, and can prepare for it. The Muggle world is, for the most part, oblivious." He gave her a small smile. "I'm sure you understand what it feels like to see things from outside the box, while everyone else seems unaware."  
  
Faith nodded. "I guess you guys know about Slayers and things as well?"  
  
"Certainly," Lupin said. "Though, this century has seen a vast divide between the Watchers Council and the Ministry of Magic, meaning that wizards were and are no longer meant to involve themselves with Slayers or Watchers."  
  
"But wouldn't it be kinda... better for everyone if they helped?"   
  
One of Lupin's shoulders lifted. "There were probably reasons," he said, leaning back in the chair and scratching his chin. "From what I know, the Watchers Council were the ones to instigate the divide."  
  
"Colour me unsurprised," Faith muttered.  
  
"You don't get on with them?"  
  
Faith's smile was brittle. "Goin' on the fact they tried to kill me more'n once, I'd say a big no."  
  
The werewolf's expression was sympathetic. "I've heard they're not exactly the most lenient of organisations," he said. "Or the most intelligent, when it comes down to it."  
  
"If they're dumb enough to stop workin' with magicy-people, hell yeah."  
  
Lupin smiled faintly. "Well, I do know that most Watchers are given a basic magical training, so they can perform the basic rituals that even a Muggle could do, given the right instruction." His nose wrinkled. "And they wonder why most Slayers and Watchers seldom last more than a few months, when they have no idea how to defend themselves properly."  
  
Faith, though, was frowning. "G was pretty good at hocus pocus," she said, picking at one of her nails. "My first Watcher could do some stuff, but Giles.. that's B... uh, Buffy, the other Slayer's watcher... he wasn't afraid of it and it kinda looked like he was used to doing it."  
  
"Giles?" Lupin echoed, a strange emotion passing across his face. "Would this be Rupert Giles?"  
  
Faith stared at him, surprised. "You know Giles?"  
  
A fleeting expression crossed his face, too swift for her to recognise it. "He... attended this school for six years," he said and Faith couldn't shake the feeling he was being very careful how he was saying what he was saying. "But had to leave, to begin Watcher training."  
  
"Does everybody just know about everybody in this... wizarding-world place?" Faith demanded, shaking her head. "He's what? One guy outta however many hundred are here and you remember him?"  
  
Lupin smiled faintly, rubbing his eyes. "I wondered if you might be curious about that," he murmured. "A lot of people remember him because he was the first person in centuries born both a wizard and a Watcher. It was a rare combination. Most people borns into the Watcher families are Muggles and most wizards who were conscripted to the Council had no previous connection to it."  
  
"So G was first prize for everyone?"  
  
"So it seemed," Lupin acknowledged. "He was also a Prefect, when he attended the school. If I recall correctly, he was in fifth year when I began first. Ravenclaw."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Ravenclaw what? Is that some kinda weird English code-thing?"  
  
Lupin blinked at her, looking puzzled, then laughed. "Oh! No, no," he said, smiling again. "We have a House system here, so the students are divided into four different houses; Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff. They're named after the four founders of the school."  
  
"Right... four houses... kinda like teams?"  
  
"Too all intents and purposes, yes," Lupin said. "Especially regarding sports and the like." Faith nodded. That made a kind of sense, but British schools weren't meant to be like normal, American schools anyway.  
  
"So G was one of those... Ravenclaws. What about you and Sev? You both came here, right?"  
  
Again, that strange flicker of emotion. "We did," he said, staring at the flickering blue heart of the fire. "Not that we got on much. At all, really. There was some enmity between him and my friends. He was in Slytherin and we, Gryffindor, which only made things worse."  
  
"How about now?" Faith asked, watching his profile intently.   
  
"We get by," Lupin answered quietly, evasively. Abruptly, he rose from the chair, looking down at her. "I'm sorry, Faith, I really do need to leave you for now. Classes begin in less than five hours and some sleep would probably be useful."  
  
Glancing up at the clock tocking ponderously over the mantle, Faith nodded. It was getting close to four thirty and sleep was gradually starting to creep up on her. "I guess I should try and get some sleep too," she said, rising.  
  
"And a long lie-in," Remus said, one side of his mouth curling upwards.  
  
"Knowin' me, I'll be up by nine anyway," Faith shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. "Got too much energy."  
  
The werewolf nodded, motioning for her to join him as he walked towards the half-open door. "I tend to have excessive energy shortly before the full moon," he said, leading her down the long flight of stairs. "Of course, afterwards, it takes nothing less than a full military strike to wake me... ah, here is your entrance."  
  
Plunging her hands into the pocket of the thick robes, Faith paused at the top of the flight of stairs, which lead down to the dungeons area, shivering at the chill that seemed to emanate from the gloomy passageway.   
  
"It was nice to meet you," she offered awkwardly, half-smiling hopefully. It was rare for her to actually just sit and talk with someone, but, she thought, it had been nice and he had been okay.  
  
"Likewise," Lupin said, his smile small but undeniably sincere. "I hope we'll see you out and about in the school soon." Panic coloured her face. "There's no hurry, though, you know. You just might like to see... well, a bit more of the school... meet a few people, perhaps."  
  
"Yeah... yeah, perhaps," she mumbled, looking down the dark hall. Part of her just wanted to hide down there, out of the way for as long as she could, but another part was so damn curious!  
  
A warm hand gently squeezed her shoulder. "Good night, Faith," Lupin said softly, before walking away down a moon-lit hall, hands in his pockets, his gaze drifting out of the window at the clear sky. His eyes closed and it looked like he was simply enjoying the feel of moonlight on his skin.  
  
Watching him go, Faith couldn't help smiling faintly. He was a nice guy, but of all the people she had to encounter, she had to be befriended by the local werewolf. She shook her head, as she started down the stairs, towards her room.   
  
It could only happen to a Slayer. 


	7. Chapter 7

Nocturne Grim - Chapter 7

Notes: Apologies for the delay on this, but sometimes, life decides to take over and I've been shunted onto computer restrictions in a nasty way. Muses shut down and went into hibernation until I found time to do anything with them. They are terribly practical that way. Then, add to that full time education. Needless to say, I have been _busy_.

"Does it always rain so damn much?"

Walking alongside the dark-haired girl, Snape nodded. "It is one of the unfortunate effects of residing in the British isles," he said, glancing at her.

Clad in an oversized cloak with a hood to shield her from the drizzling evening rain, she could have been a senior student. The only thing to suggest she wasn't was the massive pair of boots that she insisted on wearing.

Those same boots were the ones happily squelching across the lawn, the late-spring twilight giving them just enough light as they wandered the grounds, the rest of the school occupied with studying, exams and staying dry within the castle walls.

"Even in summer?"

Severus hastily smothered an almost diabolical chuckle. "Especially in summer," he said. "I believe nature has a wonderful malignity when given the chance to cause annoyance to school children on their holidays."

Peeking out from beneath the hood, Faith smirked at him. "You sound way to pleased about that," she said.

Severus sniffed dismissively. "I have yet to find a student who gives me adequate reason to wish him well and pleasant weather," he replied. "The majority are prone towards blind ignorance and mundanity."

"And you were just such a perfect student in your days," Faith snorted.

"I had my moments," Severus replied, slowing his pace as they descended the low curve of the grass down towards the Quidditch field.

A week earlier, the girl had expressed a curiosity in the stadium after seeing a House in training for Quidditch from her distant, charmed window, though she had balked at the idea of joining the crowd for the final, which would take place in several days.

So, Snape had made discreet arrangements that would allow her to slip out of the castle and into the grounds with him, unnoticed. Knowing the hidden corridors that most people were unaware of had proved a great advantage, leading them out through one of the outer walls of the castle and directly onto the vast lawn.

As they neared the stadium, Faith fell silent, her head tilted back as she stared up at the huge Quidditch goalposts, which seemed to stretch upwards indefinitely. The heads of the three unmatched poles was topped with a broad ring, which served the same purpose - he had explained - as a basketball hoop would in American basketball.

"They certainly look bigger from this angle," he observed wryly.

"Hell, yeah..." The Slayer looked from one end of the stadium to the other, the spectator stands and barriers the only thing blocking the sight of the full ground from her, awe apparent on her face. "You seriously tellin' me this is just a _kid-_size one?"

Snape chuckled. "Indeed," he replied, immeasurably pleased by the wonder this new world had on the girl. So curious, so eager, so ready to ask and learn, so awe-struck by everything she saw. "With the skill and manoeuvres the adult players utilise, such a small ground would be a deadly hazard."

"Wicked cool," Faith murmured, hopping down the flight of steps that lead to the entrance. "You ever play?"

Snape almost snorted. "Hardly," he replied. "Quidditch was certainly not my forte. I have served as referee on occasion, but I have neither the speed nor skill to prove more than an adequate player."

"Whoa," The girl threw a smirk back at him. "Somethin' you suck at? This has gotta be a first."

Snape arched a brow at her, descending the steps at a more leisurely pace. "You truly have no fear, do you?" he noted, unlocking the heavy doors with a tap of his wand. "I know no other who would dare be so impertinent."

Faith grinned at the commendation, ducking through the door after him. "You'd be scared if I started bein' all sweetness and light, Sev," she said amiably and he gave her a look, which was met with raised brows and a smirk.

In the fortnight since she had come under his protection, he had not yet been able to instil in her a need to call him by either his full name or title. Her choice of moniker had been lasting, thus far, despite his best efforts.

Shaking his head, he pushed through the vast doors and indicated for her to follow, smothering a small smile at her gasp of awe, as the playing field unrolled before them, the grass bright and lush, the hoops gleaming atop their poles. Even the house banners seemed to be brighter than usual, flapping in the wind.

"I only wish you were able to fly, to experience the sheer scale from above," he said, standing behind her as she walked forwards, staring up, turning to stare around at the gleaming wood and wind-whipped banners.

"I guess only wizards and witches can, huh?" she said, hooking her thumbs into the belt of her pants, beneath her cloak. Abruptly, she shrank back into the shadowy arch of the entrance. "Sev, I thought you said no-one'd be around."

The accusation in her tone made his brows loft and he stepped alongside her, peered up at the stadium, which could not have been accessed by any student without the wrath of the Head Mistress.

Indeed, high above them, circling the hoops in a lazy fashion, a single figure was visible on a broom.

"Ah," Snape murmured with an acknowledging nod. "I'm afraid we are here with his permission alone. That is our flying teacher and former professional Quidditch player, Oliver Wood."

"Another teacher, huh?" Faith seemed to hesitate, then stepped out from the shadows again. "Guess he already knows I'm here, if he gave you permission to bring me in here."

"Of course," Snape started out onto the middle of the field, only pausing to glance back at her with a raised brow. "Do you mind his presence?"

Shrugging, the Slayer caught up with him, trotting down the grassy verge to stand beside him. "So far, I've met the chief Witch and the werewolf-teacher-guy, so I guess one more teacher ain't gonna be a big deal."

Snape's body went a little colder at that. "You did not mention that you had encountered Lupin," he said quietly, a trace stiffly.

She didn't look at him, that he noticed acutely. He saw the way her cheek tensed, as if she were gritting her teeth against reprimand, could tell from the tensing of her shoulders that she was disconcerted by his tone.

"He ain't a bad guy, right?" she said carefully, turning her eyes to him. "Got a werewolf back in sunny C wasn't all bad."

Severus exhaled slowly, controlled, then shook his head. "No," he said softly. "He's a good man. He and I have... some measure of history."

She glanced at him. "You were screwin'?"

He stared at her, speechless, then managed to force his eyelids to acquiesce to a blink. "I beg your pardon?"

Faith shifted on her feet, examining her boots. "You said you had history and he didn't tell me, so I guess you screwed and had a bad break-up, huh?" She looked up at him, then grimaced, "Or I totally don't understand your meaning of history."

Unable to do much beside splutter in indignant incoherence at her, Snape forced that rather unpleasant image away with something akin to a shudder. Truly, the girl had a gift with explicit imagery.

"I guess that's a no, huh?" He opened one eye that he hadn't even noticed was shut and found her grinning at him. "So, you were just not-friends like the wolf-teacher said, right?"

Severus' nostrils flared, lips pursing. "You are the most insufferable child I have ever met," he said slowly. "If I had not sworn to protect you, I do honestly believe I might strangle you."

"Yeah, yeah…" she said with a grin, rocking on her feet and watching as the figure on the broomstick performed a quick circuit of the Quidditch field and came into land, alighting in the middle of the grass gracefully.

Shouldering his broom, the man turned and wandered towards them, an amiable smile on his face. "Afternoon Snape," he said cheerfully, then glanced at Faith, brown eyes glinting. "And you, Miss."

"Faith," she corrected. "Ain't got a reason to be called Miss."

Severus glanced at her and noticed she was examining Wood with the same interest he was showing her. Her arms were crossed, chin jutted up, almost challenging, while Wood leaned on his broom and grinned.

As he recalled, Wood was several years older than Faith was, but he was still full of the ridiculous boyish energy that had made him such a good Quidditch Player, even years on.

"I heard that old Snape had got a guest," Wood said, giving Snape that annoyingly infectious grin. "Nice to see you finally out of the basement."

Faith shrugged with a lazy roll of her shoulders. "Had to get settled," she replied, almost casually, but Severus could see – out of the corner of his eye – the way she had defensively folded her arms over her torso. "Kinda a change of climate."

Wood glanced up at the turbulent grey sky, then chuckled. "Oh, this is nothing," he said. "Wait until we hit winter and you see the blizzards… they're a nightmare for flying in." He hesitated, then looked between Snape and Faith. "How long are you staying, then? We didn't get many details."

Faith glanced up at Severus, who moved closer and smoothly cut in. "We have not yet decided how long Faith will remain here," he said with the kind of smile that Wood would understand, a nudge to drop the subject. "But for the moment, she is staying indefinitely, until she feels she must leave."

Wood, clearly, took the hint. He gave Faith a more careful, gentle smile. "Well, it's nice to have someone new around anyway," he said. He shifted his weight against the broom, the bristles of which were sinking into the ground at his feet. "You ever seen a game of Quidditch?"

"Only from the window of my room," Faith replied. "Never even heard of it before I came here."

"Never heard…" Wood looked like she had uttered a blasphemy. "But Quidditch…" He turned a horrified look on Snape, who could not help but chuckle. "How can she not have heard of Quidditch?"

"Because, Wood," Snape sighed, as if talking to a stupid child. While Wood was a fellow member of staff, he was still one of the most aggravatingly single-minded people Snape had ever encountered. "She is that Muggle with special dispensation that McGonagall mentioned to you."

"Mug-what?"

"Muggle, Faith," Snape replied, turning to gaze at her. "Non-witch."

"Oh. Right," Faith's mouth turned up at one side. "Yeah. I'm one of them."

Wood was staring at her, a wicked gleam of mischief in his eyes that immediately put Severus on edge. "So you've never been on a broom?" he said, tugging his out of the soft ground.

"Never even been on a sail boat," Faith replied, shrugging.

Wood's grin looked like it might potentially split his face. "Want to?"

Faith's surprise was palpable, much to Snape's amusement. "But I'm not a witch," she said.

"_You_ don't have to be," Wood replied, indicating to his elegant, expensive broom, which had been recently updated. "_I_ would do the flying. All you have to do is get on the back and hold on."

Even before she looked askance at him, Severus gestured with his hand that she was quite free to do what she liked and if she wished to fly, then she was quite permitted to do so.

"Wicked cool!" she darted forward, eyes alight and eager. "I wanna!"

Oliver laughed, looking as enthused as the girl did. "Not often we get someone so willing to trust me," he said, swinging one leg over the broom and indicating for her to mimic his position.

"Way to make me trust you," Faith snorted, placing her feet several inches behind his and looking his back up and down carefully. "Uh... where do I gotta hold on so I don't fall off?"

Without even looking around, Wood reached back and lifted one of her hands to his waist. "Wrap your arms around and hold on," he instructed. "But you're not allowed to close your eyes."

Again, the girl snorted. "How much of a wuss do you think I am?" she demanded, gripping him securely around the waist.

"Well, you look like the sort who screams like a girl..."

"Only one place _I_ scream, Wood, and it sure as hell ain't on a broom."

In front of her, the flying instructor looked like he'd choked, his face going a deep shade of puce, his expression one Severus was sure he had begun to wear a lot since Faith's arrival.

"Faith," Snape chastised mildly, though he couldn't keep the amusement from his voice.

She threw a mischievous smirk at him. "You want I should break him in gently?"

If anything, the unfortunate Mister Wood attained a new level of crimson. However, before Snape could reply, the younger man kicked off from the ground, forcing Faith to wrap her arms more tightly around him as the broom shot skywards.

Much to Snape's amusement, he heard Faith's quickly-stifled shriek of surprise before they were out of range of his hearing.

It was, in part, a relief to see that she was once more willing to allow others close to her. Part of him had feared that she would close herself away in grim solitude for as long as he would permit, yet there she was, mounted on a broom, flying at Wood's back and laughing, although he could only see and not hear her mirth.

Whizzing from one end of the pitch to the other, Wood's movements were less acrobatic than usual, but even after several circuits of the ground, he couldn't seem to resist the urge to bring Faith back to the ground in a steep dive.

Staggering off the broom as her feet touched the ground, still laughing, damp hair whipped every way, cheeks bright with colour, Faith clutched at Wood's shoulder to regain her balance. Her hand leapt back, though, when he glanced back at her.

"So?"

"That was wicked cool!" She spun to face Severus who raised a brow. "You shoulda seen what this place looks like from up there! The castle is _huge_!" Behind her, Wood leaned on his upright broom, chuckling. "And you looked like a real grumpy ant from way up there."

"Charmed," Severus said sourly.

"You enjoyed yourself, then?" Wood inquired, eyes twinkling.

The Slayer threw a half-grin back at him, turning to face him fully. "Gotta say I liked the way you handled yourself up there, _Wood_," she said, to which the Quidditch player laughed aloud.

"Is she always...?" he asked of Severus, who was trying his utmost to suppress a chuckle of his own.

"Oh yes," Snape replied flatly. "_Always_."

"That a problem?" Faith arched her brow.

Wood shook his head, grinning broadly at her. "Wouldn't have minded an advanced warning, but nah," he said amiably. "Not a problem at all." He swung his broom up onto his shoulder. "You sure you don't want to come down to the final? Ravenclaw against Slytherin. Should be a good game."

As abruptly as she had been laughing, Faith seemed to recoil into herself, moving back closer to Severus who could see the nervous stiffening of her narrow shoulders and the uncertain expression on her face.

Apparently, Wood noticed the change too and raised his free hand in a dismissive gesture, his smile unwavering. "No, you're right. I'm too pushy," he said cheerfully, as if she had actually voiced her thoughts. "Mum always said I needed to learn some manners. Don't worry about it. Always was too forward."

"It's... I... I'm still getting set up," Faith mumbled, apology clear in her tone. "And I'm not good with a lot of people."

Wood studied her for a minute, then looked at Severus who raised his brows in silent challenge. "How about this, then," he said, "I watch the whole game for you and nick a pensieve somewhere and bring it down for you to watch?"

"A what?"

"A pensieve," Wood replied cheerfully. "I can remember the game."

"And be utterly biased," Severus murmured, both surprised and pleased by Wood's generous offer. He had not expected the girl to be so readily accepted. Then again, he had not expected the same for himself.

Faith looked from one to the other, confused. "Again with the what?"

"A pensieve allows a wizard to store his memories outwith his mind," Severus replied. "And to look through them, even experience them again, at will. Consider it a video recorder for the memory."

The Slayer's mouth dropped open. "You can do that?"

Severus was hard-pressed not to smile at her wonderful innocence once more. "We can indeed, although I would warn you that if you do, indeed, accept Wood's offer, then you would have to tolerate seeing the game with him in his element."

"In other words," Wood said with a grin, "I'd be screaming abuse at the kids who are playing and throwing things at them."

"Sounds like the NFL," Faith replied, still staring curiously at Wood. "You sure you wouldn't mind me diggin' into your memories?"

"Ha!"

Ignoring Snape's sound of disbelief in a dignified manner, Wood smiled. "I don't mind re-watching the games," he said amiably. "Normally, I can't find anyone daft enough to join me, though."

"You gonna watch with us, Sev?" Anxious brown eyes turned his way, then flicked nervously back to Wood. "D'you mind if Sev watches?"

Wood glanced at Snape, then shook his head. "As long as I get to scream abuse and throw things, I think I'll be fine," he said, a subtle nod indicating to Severus that it would honestly be accepted.

"If you would wish for me to be present," he said acknowledging Wood's nod with a cant of his head. "I am certain I could find a little time."

The Slayer looked both pleased and a little awe-struck. "Wicked cool," she said. "I guess we'll be seeing the game with you, then, huh?"

"Great!" Wood beamed. "You bring the popcorn and I'll bring the butterbeer." He glanced at his watch. "But now, we have to clear out. The grounds are getting spruced up for the game."

As he started for the exit, Faith trotted after him. "Hold up, buddy," she said, quickening her pace to match his longer strides. "You mean you can actually take stuff into your memories?"

"You'd get a bit peckish if you didn't, especially knowing how long games can sometimes go on for," Wood replied looking down at her. "Do you have anything you'd want me to bring along? Any sweets or things?"

"Whatcha got?"

"Cockroach clusters?"

"Ew! Are you serious?"

"Occasionally."

Behind them, Severus walked at a more leisurely pace, even when they were beyond the stadium gates. The rain was getting heavier, but neither of them seemed to have noticed, as Wood filled Faith in on all the sweets he could get hold of, should she have the inclination to try them.

They seemed an odd pair, Severus mused, as he watched Wood slipping on the muddy slope and get hauled upright by the smaller girl, who made a face at him, before splashing onwards.

Strangely, he didn't feel any anger at seeing the two of them verbally nudging one another, nor the way they occasionally risked a glance at each other's face when they thought the other wasn't looking.

There was no grief in knowing that she had, perhaps, found someone who might become something of a friend to her.


End file.
